Karal'e - Part One
by Michael Ivan
Summary: A quest of self-discovery begins as Karal'e, a Khajiit, learns that he is much more powerful than he seems. Disclaimer: Eventual same-sex romance subplot.
1. The Battle at Helgen

Under the shadowy branches of Skyrim's tallest evergreen trees, my carriage trudged along the path from Cyrodiil, carrying on its back four bound men. Three of these men were traitors. One of them was innocent. Two of them were rewriting history.

One of them was me.

I wasn't at fault. I was caught in an ambush on the Cyrodiil side. One of these people, the man sitting next to me, was Ulfric Stormcloak. I couldn't even pretend to not know who he was. He used an ancient Nord power to destroy the High King, news that the son of an Imperial officer can't easily miss. I sat in silent judgement. Want to know what I was thinking?

_I'm going to die by accident next to a traitorous asshole._

My thoughts aren't poetic. Thankfully, I'm not naturally blunt unless I'm upset. The fact that I got myself caught in a rather significant situation also factored into this.

"I don't remember any cats tagging along."

I was jolted from my deep thought and hadn't noticed that the Stormcloak follower across from me had said that."Excuse me?", I asked, raising my blue eyes to attention.

"You heard me," he jabbed.

"Actually, no, I didn't," I answered honestly.

"I don't remember any _cats_ following us."

I dealt with this crap often enough that I just sighed in response.

"Whose side are you on?" he questioned.

"It's none of your disgusting business. I was mistaken for the likes of you."

His face went red as he leaned back and looked out towards the carriage's destination; The fort town of Helgen, where I was destined to be executed. The citizens gazed in near-silence, and only broke it to shout obscenity. I was almost fooled into believing I _did_ do something wrong. The carriages stopped, jolting me from my thoughts again. Curse my small attention span.

"Everybody up!" an Imperial questioner shouted. I complied. I wasn't about to disobey, but a rebel had another idea, and ran about twenty feet before dying in a less... dignified fashion.

Because the dirt was somehow fascinating, I hadn't realized when it was my turn to speak. "What is your name?" the questioner asked.

"My name is Karal'e," I choked, the wind chilling the skin beneath my sand-colored fur.

"Well, _my?_ Unusual of a Khajiit," she remarked.

"It was my upbringing."

"Good for you. Head over to the block."

The atmosphere was ominous. Ominous enough that it took me a few moments to register what her order was. I turned my head, and saw the executioner with his blade, hungry for another man's neck. I stood and waited for my name to be called, and surely enough, I was next. No emotion was felt as I laid my head down, waiting for the silence of death. Instead of silence, however, a large roar echoed from the mountains.

"What was that?" an Imperial exclaimed.

The sudden sound of shifting wind passed through my ears. People began to scream, and some unnatural screeching sound stood out over the audible desctruction. Although I could see nothing, I heard everything, and after finding that the executioner was gone, I looked up at a dragon as it launched itself from the top of a now-crumbling watch tower. I was caught in confusion, and ran without a thought of how to escape, when I heard a familiar voice call from a nearby tower. It was the asshole from the carriage ride.

_Oh, fuck me._

I ran inside, realizing he was half-heartedly trying to help me.

"Normally, I wouldn't do this, but we need strength in numbers to escape," he said with a gesture towards Ulfric. "And you don't want to die like this, do you?"

I glanced back as the door closed, watching as the town was set ablaze. "I guess not," I replied. It didn't take a scholar to tell that Ulfric was attempting to escape, but I was more concerned about my _immediate_ future.

"Smart choice. My name's Ralof. Head upstairs, we need help on the roof!"

He ran up the tower with a hunting bow. I wasn't sure what he had in mind for it, but I wasn't about to question them about it when their intent was to spare me. As I bolted upstairs, the dragon's head burst through the wall, sending me tumbling back to the floor. Ralof tried to help me up, but I rose nimbly to my feet, finding the stairway blocked. I quickly turned away as the dragon sent fire spewing out of it's mouth, filling the room, roasting the furniture and the wounded Stormcloaks among it. The beast then left for new prey.

Ralof called towards me. "Damn it, we need to get out of here!" The sound of an explosion interrupted him. "There's no other way out, jump through the wall!"

"Do you want me to die?", I shouted. He left without an answer, so I ran up to the hole in the wall. Sparing no time, I jumped out, and fell into the second floor of a nearby house.

As soon as I gathered my thoughts, I dashed through the house, and dropped through another hole to the first floor. I ran outside, finding a child being rushed from his father's dead body. I tried to shake off my feeling of grief and ran to cover when a soldier joined me.

"Are you a Stormcloak?", he asked breathlessly.

"No. Do you have armor? I'd like to avoid burning to death."

"Yeah, I'd be worried about that, too," he said, inspecting me. "Follow me if you want to live."

"Glad to know I have a choice."

I was rushed into the barracks, where numerous dead or wounded Imperial soldiers lay. The soldier, who introduced himself as Hadvar, cut my bindings and handed me armor and weapons. He and I continued through a secret passage to escape the mayhem in town. It was then that I realized that this was not just a battle between man and dragon, but Imperial and Stormcloak, as two rebel soldiers threatened us.

I hadn't used a sword since my father had trained me, but I managed to do some damage. Thankfully, I had a far more experienced fighter by my side. We pressed onward, running through a hall when the ceiling collapsed in front of us. We took a detour through a kitchen, and I took whatever supplies I could find. I scraped up food and a healing potion.

We later reached a torture chamber. There were sights there that I would prefer to forget. Hadvar handed me some lockpicks and suggested I loot the cages for supplies. I had only been so close to an actual dead body once before. The lifeless presence I felt as I searched their pockets was unsettling, bringing back a part of my past that I had been running from when I stumbled upon the Stormcloak ambush. I knew that I would soon be well-acquainted with rummaging through corpses. After a few minutes of forced searching, I found more potions and a bit of gold. We fought on, facing Stormcloaks with hunting bows, which I took for myself when they were finished off. One of them got me in the ear. By the Eight, that fucking hurt.

"Do you need some help?"

I shook my head to say "no".

"Suit yourself," he said.

After ten minutes that felt like hours, we reached a cave, and a bear lay in slumber.

"Stay completely silent," Hadvar asserted. "Or wake it up, your call."

Knowing full well how horribly a bear attack could turn out, I followed him through the shadows to the cave exit. We finally left the dark and deadly cavern. The light was nearly blinding. Just as my eyesight caught up with my surroundings, I heard a roar and the dragon flew away overhead, casting its shadow briefly over a distant town.

"That's Riverwood. I need to get to the Legion," Hadvar said, gravely. "I think you can fend for yourself, right?"

Exasperated, I could only nod in response.

"On second thought, you should follow me there. I know some people who can take care of you, for now."

* * *

After a few minutes on a winding dirt path, we reached an ancient relic that I vaguely recognized. It was something my mother taught me about back home. Three tall stones, each glowing a distinct color, inked delicately onto finely-cut pages.

"The Guardian Stones," Hadvar said with nostalgia. "Take your pick."

He seemed to expect me to know what they were, and what they did. I only vaguely remembered them. The monument evoked a memory of my mother's lessons in magic, about the many standing stones of Skyrim. It was the subject of one of my mother's many books. Books that she made me read before I went to bed at night. I can almost remember her say...

"The three stones of power. Choose one path to guide your abilities. The Mage, Warrior and Thief stones," Hadvar interjected.

Well, it felt like an interjection. I was somewhere else entirely.

After I woke myself from thought, I found myself standing in front of the mage stone. A blue pool of light shimmered in the hole at head-height. I knew I had to reach up and ease my hand through, but... the Nords were kind of tall back then, let's put it that way. My hand shook as it passed through the blue light. When it reached wrist-deep, I felt the power of the standing stone slither through my veins, and my arm was suddenly ensnared, my vessels tugged at like the ropes holding back a wild boar. When I was released, I fell back on the ancient stone, and spoke my first words in hours.

"I'm gonna fucking _puke_!"

"You're one of the lucky ones, believe me," Hadvar said as he began to turn. "Come on, let's keep going."

"How is this helping me?"

"I'm walking you to a place where you can spill your lunch to your heart's content."

"I didn't have lunch!"

"Oh." He slowed for a moment. "Well, you can get some when you get there. You must be starved."

I hadn't expected this level of compassion, given the "warm" welcome I received from his fellow soldiers. Perhaps he figured it was a misunderstanding, since I didn't fit in well at all with the Stormcloaks. I think the fur was the first clue.

"So," Hadvar continued. "The Mage stone, eh?"

"Yeah. Sort of-" I stumbled as I walked. "...a family thing, I guess. Following parental guidance."

"I see. Where are you from?"

He could've made a good guess. An incorrect one, but a predictable one, although I could tell he wasn't the assumptive type.

"Cyrodiil. My father was an Imperial legate." I paused. "_Is_ a legate."

"Really, now? Did he speak like... You know?"

"With 'this one' and 'Khajiit do this-and-that' instead of 'I'? Of course. My mother didn't. Her name was Merah'e, if you recognize her as an author by some slim chance."

"Any name for your father?"

"Khel'ja. He was well-liked, internally." I absorbed the sound of birds above us. "I don't think he deserved it."

"Although I take it you're still with the Imperials?" It seemed like Hadvar was side-stepping the topic of my father.

"Yeah. How did you figure that? You should've assumed I was with Ulfric."

"I did, at first. But I knew they wouldn't hire Khajiit unless they were desperate."

"They _are_ desperate," I emphasized. "Just not enough to transcend racism."

"Aye, they're blind in more ways than one." He stopped and looked off into the distance. I tried to follow his gaze, and he pointed toward a gash in the terrain with giant arches. "See those ruins? That's Bleak Falls Barrow. A Nord tomb."

I looked out at the foreign architecture. I had heard plenty from my mother and father, but never had a good idea of what the tombs looked like. I heard that they were impressive, but even from this distance, the towers were belittling. The Barrow was only one of them. The rustle of branches added base to the song of the birds, with the wind as the chorus which echoes the tune. All of it played together perfectly, and all perfectly by chance. At that moment, I took in just how beautiful Skyrim was.


	2. Bleak Falls Barrow

Dreams. I hate them so much. When they aren't bringing me through my past, they make no sense at all. Trying to find a hidden message usually makes my head hurt. It would be like if an artist were to set up a canvas, and toss any assortment of out-of-place concepts in an arrangement that only serves to make things more confusing.

I had a more understandable dream the night I slept at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. It was nothing profound. It was only a memory of my life back in Cyrodiil, when I was 19 years old. This was back when the Legion was at peace, when my family was at peace, and when I was at peace. My father had sent me on a sort of training camp trip with a few other teenagers, a few friends included. I had few friends, and those that I had meant the world to me.

The one memory I relived was one of my favorite memories. One of my friends, a Breton named Rodryck, was especially competitive. He wasn't into field games, but he liked to race more than anything. I couldn't understand it. He could run with endurance that no one I know of has matched. If he could've ran any faster, you would be able to track his movement from the ruined terrain that would follow him. Why did this bother me?

"Hey, K, want to race?"

I always lost. Except for when I tripped him, which was whenever I got exhausted. That is the second thing I can remember about him. He was pathetically coordinated. Every time he'd challenge me to a race, I'd make him promise to do whatever I wanted him to do afterwards. We would climb up trees, jump through trees, and - my personal favorite - fall out of trees. Why was that my favorite? I never fell.

This is why, when I ran from the remains of my family back home, I ran with Rodryck on my mind. I remembered how he could run fast enough to out-speed the most powerful mage in Tamriel. I tried to make myself believe I had his power. That is when I was captured.

* * *

After lying in bed for perhaps an hour after waking up, I decided to get up and find out what that delicious smell was, coming from the inn hall. I approached Delphine, the innkeeper at Riverwood.

"Thanks for serving me," I said, "Hopefully I haven't been a burden."

"It's nothing. We get a lot of adventurers coming in from Cyrodiil, on their way to Whiterun. None of them are quite so kind."

"Oh," I glanced toward the oven behind the counter, "Thanks. What's the smell?"

She turned around and walked to the stove, "Jazbay Costrata. Normally, my assistant cooks and I attend the guests, but he's away in Markarth."

"Pardon?"

"You've never heard of the place? It's very ornate, and everything is made of stone and metal."

"That sounds like the Dwemer to me," I recalled from my lessons back home.

"Yeah, it _was_," she pointed out, "But if you know the Dwemer, you know how that turned out." She handed me a plate. It seemed like a very long time since I had slept in a warm bed and ate quality food, even though it had only been a day since I left home. Every little gesture of hospitality seemed foreign. I had expected none of it from Skyrim.

"Well, I hope I'll be lucky enough to go," I added, before digging in.

"Say, I have a bit of a question for you," she said, looking sheepish. "Don't take offense to me, but don't Khajiit avoid using 'I's?"

"You mean we use the third person? Yeah, I... get that. A _lot_."

"Interesting. It seems strange," she paused, "Then again, I haven't met very many Khajiit in my day."

"Neither have I."

As soon as I finished my breakfast, I decided it was time for me to continue, but not before stopping by the local smith.

* * *

Hadvar had instructed me to check in with Alvor for supplies and advice. After I explained my situation, he expressed concern.

"You'll need to speak with the Jarl. He has the power to send in troops," he said.

"How long of a way is that?" I asked.

"About as long as your trip from Helgen, but maybe a bit longer. You'll need better armor than that, though."

"Yes, this is basically secondhand ration, if you can even call it that." I looked down at my shabby Imperial outfit. "Do you have something better?"

"For a price? Yes, but I can make one exception for you." He jogged over to a storage house, and I followed out of curiosity.

When I walked in, I was greeted by numerous unorganized boxes of armor and weapons that seemed tossed in as they were found, like a pile that keeps adding up with no adjustment. No rhyme or reason. I cringed. Alvor stumbled from behind one pile with an iron cuirass. "It's nothing like what you'll find in Whiterun, but it'll get you past the local wildlife, and it's at least slightly more durable than city guard rations."

"That's just a cuirass..." I gestured.

"Oh..." he dropped the armor and retreated again.

I let out a heavy sigh, sat on the dirt, and drew circles in the ground.

* * *

The sun rose high above the valley. I could almost feel myself getting close to the city. I had that feeling since the moment I left Riverwood. My feelings aren't to be trusted, so nobody back home really listened to my advice.

I decided I would refresh my target practice skills by hunting deer. This was a problem for me back home because I would see a pretty tree, then stick _it_ with an arrow. I wasted my father's time. I needed to find it within me to focus on my target.

_THWACK_

Bullseye. I just needed to find my dagger.

* * *

In the meadows leading to Whiterun's stables, the forest fringe was disturbed as I pulled a deer out of the brush.

_Of all of the things I needed, he forgot give me a fucking DAGGER!_

I eventually gave up dragging it and borrowed a dagger from a guard. I wrapped the meat in the pelt in hoisted it in a sack as I arrived at Whiterun. Along the home stretch, I heard a voice call to me from below, near a tent.

"Ah, Ri'saad has many useful items here from his travels! Why not take a look?"

I glanced down at the Khajiit below me, meeting his look. He looked rather small, but my perspective at the time deceived me. He had silver fur with striking emerald eyes that held my attention upon seizing it.

"I'm actually headed inside." I pointed behind me. "I'll stop by on my way back out."

"Hm. You are not from Elseweyr, are you, traveler?"

"Not... directly?" I was a caught off-guard.

"You do not speak as one often does."

"People seem to notice that a lot. What do you have?"

"Oh, healing potions, food, plants, and plenty to use for potion mixing," he paused, "and some enchanted jewelry if you are interested in such things."

"I'm sorry, I'll have to pass," I paused, trying to think of something to talk about. "What's interesting to you?"

"That is a very vague question." Ri'saad looked up towards the nearby mountain in thought. "Have you heard of the Greybeards?"

I was a bit puzzled by the question. "The who?"

"They use the power of the dragons to shout. It is almost like a spell, but with one's voice, and much more powerful."

The concept of shouting magic sounded oddly familiar. It was something recent, as I recalled. It was an ancient power, used to murder the High King in his very throne. Betrayed by one of his own. Betrayed by Ulfric Stormcloak. My father only spoke of it briefly, and refused to go into detail, although he clearly knew far more than he told.

"They know this power?"

"Yes, they taught it to Ulfric himself, although they did not know what would come of it." He stopped to look up at me. "It is said in legend that they shout through the skies if the Eight have sent down a spirit under the skin of a mortal. The Dragonborn, the ultimate dragon slayer." He gestured to the sky. "With all of this happening, this one hopes we hear something soon."

"I'm caught up in a lot of history already. I hope they find this Dragonborn person. What could he, or she, look like?"

"Nobody knows that. When - or if - this shouting occurs, the Dragonborn will have been discovered, and only the Dragonborn will know."

"Point taken." I shook my thoughts away. "I should get going."

"Please return soon!", Ri'saad called back.

* * *

The main street of Whiterun was lined with houses that reflected the city's location in the plains. The distinct wood frame and straw roof design was adopted by each building, with each district higher up on a plateau, with houses rising higher and higher until they hit the palace of the Jarl of Whiterun. Dragonsreach was perched at the tip of town, watching with a keen eye over the Jarl's people. As I approached it, the palace seemed to grow larger and larger, until I could no longer tell how tall it was.

Then, I realized I looked like an idiot standing at the door and looking straight up.

I pushed open the large doors to the palace's main hall. The room seemed larger than the building itself, with the shadows of the framework cast upward by low-placed torches. The pillars continued to the back of the room, where the throne stood against the wall with purpose, and Jarl Balgruuf the Greater himself sat slouched in thought. I walked along the two dining tables before being stopped at the steps to his throne.

"Stop! Do you have business with the Jarl?" the Jarl's housecarl asserted.

"I must speak for Riverwood," I said.

"All right, you may continue."

I turned towards the Jarl, angling my head up so as to not be disrespectful.

"My Jarl," I coughed, "I must report on behalf of the town of River-"

"Cut the formalities, traveler." Balgruuf's voice echoed in the theatre of a hall.

"Helgen was destroyed, by a dragon."

"Aye. We know," he interrupted, "We received word from a courier yesterday."

"Yes, and Riverwood is requesting some sort of assistance. The Dragon flew over the town afterward."

"I will respect their wishes and have a group of our guards patrol the town at once."

"Thank you, sir."

"It was also quite brave of you to come all the way up here. I will reward you with 350 gold septims!"

"Thank... you! Sir!"

_What did I even do!? I only walked up here!_

I couldn't complain. I just met a leader that I wasn't expecting to meet, entered a building I couldn't have been expected to enter, and was rewarded with hundreds of gold septims.

"You seem like a hardy fighter, given your armor, there," the Jarl pointed out.

"Do you have something for me to do? Sir?"

"Actually, yes. I believe our court wizard could tell you more."

A guard directed me into a room at the side. Behind a counter, a man was using what I recognized as an enchanting table to enchant a robe. I had only seen an enchanting table once before. Again, it was in a book back home. I had only a vague recollection of how to use them. He mumbled something about a stone.

I cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me? Are you the court wizard?"

"Farengar Secret-Fire, yes," he responded. "Has the Jarl sent you?"

"Yes. He said you needed something to be done?"

He looked me up-and-down. "I was expecting a guard to do this for me. What experience to you have? Any sort?"

I breathed in to recall. "My father lives at the White-Gold City, he's a legate. Uh, my mother is an alchemist and a mage, and I've carried a bit of that knowledge with me."

His presence seemed to lighten when I mentioned my mother. "Perfect! I need you to to grab something for me. It is something that simply fascinates me."

"Is this an errand?"

"An errand of historic proportions! Look here." He flipped through a tome and stopped his finger at a diagram. "The Dragonstone. I cannot tell you where I got this book, but it points at this stone being the key to understanding Dragons."

"It does sound pretty incredible, but what will I need to fight?"

"Oh, some... measly bandits, rats, skeevers. Maybe frostbite spiders, do you need a sword?"

"No, I'm carrying one right now." I was sure he hadn't expected me to have brute combat skill.

"Good, you'll be perfectly fine, then! And you know where it is?"

"Yeah."

"Incredible! You're the most useful person in Whiterun! Go on."

He spun back to his table, continuing his work on the robe. As overwhelmed as I was, I knew I couldn't turn down this task. I stopped by Ri'saad's camp to eat before a left, and I was beginning to enjoy his company. I left the sunny town of Whiterun and traversed the valley again, mulling over what I might find, and perhaps a bit excited at the prospect of discovering treasure.

* * *

Night had fallen on Skyrim by the time I had arrived at Bleak Falls Barrow. I bounded up the steps toward the legendary Nord stone arches. I inspected the stonework, felt its age through my fingers. The sense of mystery is one that could've only been imagined beforehand.

My feeling of mystery was smacked away by the sound of an arrow gouging a hole in the ancient stone. I quickly drew my hunting bow and unloaded my arrows into a group of wild bandits, who I had been expecting to be inside.

The stone ground beneath me was scratched arrow-after-arrow and I ran from one pillar to the next, moving closer and closer to the entrance as I knocked off each bandit. Soon, none were left, and I looted their arrow reserves. Trying to shake death from my mind yet again, I approached the iron entryway, and creaked open the front door.

The first room was a year away from becoming a pile of rubble. One support pillar had completely fallen, revealing a gaping hole in the ceiling. On the far side, two bandits had set up a kindling, and were speaking to each other. I glided through the shadows to dive behind some debris and listen in.

"So, we're just supposed to sit here while Arvel runs off with that golden claw?"

"That dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks."

"What if Arvel doesn't come back? I want my share from that claw!"

"Just _shut up_ and keep an eye out for trouble."

I punctuated his sentence with an arrow through the throat, sending splatter across the face of the other. With a shocked delay of two seconds, he pulled out his sword, but couldn't find me. Two arrows to the torso did him in.

Making sure the coast was clear, I continued past the campfire, and into the next area of the tomb.

I guess "tomb" is the wrong word. "Complex" doesn't do it justice, either. I found myself winding around and through burial chambers, trap triggers and those ingenious Nord puzzles. Rows of crypts led forth to sparse treasure, which I pocketed in my knapsack. Thankfully, Ri'saad was sweet enough to allow me to keep my heavier things with him. I couldn't wait to tell him about the place.

_If only I can make it out alive._

What made matters worse was when I began to see cobwebs. Cobwebs! Webbed hallways wound until they led to a large room with a dome of cobwebs overhead. I had just noticed the dark elf in the webbings across the room when a giant spider fell from the ceiling.

That isn't something one expects to fight.

The spider crawled up to me with surprising speed, salivating poison from its barbed fangs. I backed against the door and aimed my sword straight into the eyes, executing the giant spider and hopefully circumventing a very long and poisonous battle. Once the spider's legs lay limp on the stone floor, I ran across to cut Arvel from the web.

"Come on, cut me out of here!"

"Do you have the claw?"

"Yes, it's right here! I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. They all fit together, and if you let me down, I'll show you!"

I took my dagger from its holster and sliced through the slick threads, freeing Arvel, who immediately turned toward a hall and ran from me.

"I can't let you take the claw from me!"

He ran through the halls aimlessly. I must have chased him through dozens upon dozens of hallways. His aimlessness proved to be his downfall. He triggered a trap button on the floor, and long spears shot from the walls, skewering him. His remains fell to the floor when the spears retreated. I couldn't bear to watch, and pretended his body was a pile of pillows as I grabbed the claw and his journal from it.

After traveling through even more halls of crypts, I began to wonder how I would find my way out. I felt cold and alone, more than I ever had. I wished that I could have a warm spirit in my presence. I got what I wanted, as one of the decaying bodies on the walls stepped down and drew its sword at me.

Not knowing what to expect, I threw a lighting spell at it, sending it soaring down the hallway. I had never thought to use my mother's magic lessons again.

_I'm so damned stupid, sometimes._

As I continued through the tomb, more of them appeared. Bodies of wilting skin and muscle continued to challenge me at every turn, making decent practice for me. Then one hall, a wide and cavernous area, was devoid of any sort of life. At the end was a large door with three symbols on wheels, with a slot to insert a claw in the center. I took out the claw and read the journal. I knew exactly what to do.

I spun the wheels into the correct combination of symbols, which the claw itself bore in its palm, and inserted the "key". The wheels suddenly twirled into new positions, and the door sunk heavily and ominously into the floor. I had reached the secret of Bleak Falls Barrow. I approached, and a powerful armored corpse burst out of its sarcophagus.

There was always _something_ around the corner that I was not prepared for.

I dueled the decrepit warrior, stopping its greatsword short of my eyes with my own weapon of steel. Using all of the force I could muster, I pushed it back against the table with my sword. It returned and swung repeatedly, and before long, its tactics had become predictable. I looked back to where the stone floor dropped to a small stream. I manipulated its actions to move us closer and closer to the edge. As I had guessed it would, it swung overhand for my face. I blocked and pushed back again, and watched as it fell backwards into the stream. I used my lightning spell, and I missed, hitting the water and sizzling the overlord in its new final resting place.

Feeling a sweeping sense of relief, I turned back, and took in the enormity of the giant cavern. I retrieved the Dragonstone and piled hundreds of septims into a nearby sack, but froze when I saw a "U"-shaped wall scrawled with an unfamiliar language. Above this, the wall was etched with the image of a dragon. I looked down at the scratchy print, and found myself perplexed by what I was seeing. Just as I had looked over one word of the text, the letters began to glow blue, and ribbons of a mysterious energy began flowing into me. The waving bands of magic wrapped around my soul, absorbing some new power within me. Before long, they released their grasp on my heart, and I found myself greatly weakened. My legs failed me, and I struggled to catch my breath.

I had just found myself at the center of an even greater mystery.


	3. The Western Watchtower

The overwhelming sense of shock led me to a conclusion regarding what had happened at Bleak Falls Barrow. About an hour after I had left, my weariness dissipated. Clearly, I hadn't been harmed by whatever that wall did to me. It must've been some enchantment. I knew I shouldn't have been putting so much thought into something that didn't hurt me, so I didn't bother. In the wee hours of the morning, I walked past the Khajiit camp. Everyone was asleep besides Ri'saad, who saw me almost as soon I saw him. He immediately grabbed my second knapsack and handed it to me.

"How did your travels treat you, Karal'e?", he asked with an air of concern.

"Interestingly," I said with apprehension. "Some things I hadn't seen before. To put things shortly, the dead came to life and attacked me."

"Ah, that would be the Draugr. Nobody seems to know why, but disturbing the rest of the dead Nord spirits awakens their bodies," he shivered. "Ri'saad has yet to deal with them, and does not plan to."

"Well, if you ever do, bring me along! I'm well-equipped to protect you, now."

"Ah." Ri'saad grew sheepish. He quickly looked down at my bag, and handed to me. "Here you are. This one kept it safe."

"Thank you. I guess I'll stop by as soon as I can?"

"Well, you will need to leave that place eventually! Alas, we will be leaving by the day's end. Trading business, you see."

"Oh. I'll try to stop by as soon as I can."

"Please do!" he said excitedly.

I turned away, keeping our eyes connected for a few feet before heading towards Whiterun to return what I had found.

* * *

"Amazing! The Dragonstone!" Farengar was ecstatic about continuing his Dragon research. "And what is that? A claw?"

"Technically, this is a key to the door that led me to the stone." I inspected the inscriptions again, and handed Farengar the journal. "This mentions that the bandit leader stole it from someone. Recognize the name, here?"

"Hm. I do not, but I will try my best to locate him. I'll find some gold to repay you with, immediately! You've done me a great service, traveler."

"Actually, I was hoping I could give _you_ gold. You see, I have no place to live yet, and my belongings are beginning to get..." I dropped my second knapsack by my sack of gold septims. "...heavy."

"Oh. All right. The guards haven't been busy at all lately, so I could pay them extra to help you. Just tell me where, and how."

He took out a sheet of paper for me to outline a house. I pointed on his map to a location close enough to Whiterun, but out in the plains, surrounded by wilderness. The thought of returning to the way of life that my parents arranged was appealing to me. Within my limits, I drafted a house with a large hall and a few bedrooms. I just needed a name.

* * *

After that exchange was finished, I headed back out of town and stopped by the caravan again. By this time, everybody was awake, and they were cooking something.

"What's in the pot?", I asked.

"Oh, we are just making tomato soup before we start packing up," Ri'saad replied. "This one fears we won't be done packing today, so we might not leave until tomorrow."

I tried to find some disappointment in that statement, but I couldn't find any. I realized, looking at the cooking pot, that I hadn't eaten in a while. "Is there enough to spare?"

"Well, with the extra time, there will be." he stopped, noticing I still had both my knapsacks. "Where do you live?"

The question made me uncomfortable. I didn't want him to know I was homeless, but I am not a dishonest person, so I said to him, "Nowhere right now, but I have a house being built by the river to the east."

"Oh, we're staying the night, so you can sleep with us," he spoke with light-heartedness.

"I don't think I should, there's no space."

"Nonsense, Ri'saad will find a way. As soon as you get your soup, this one can just look for another cot for you." It sounded like he wasn't taking "no" for an answer. I really enjoyed staying with him, but I didn't want to be a burden on their resources. They seemed far from wealthy and fortunate. Ri'saad, ever persistent, wouldn't let me leave without eating or sleeping. I gave in and agreed.

The soup was pretty good. I usually only ate baked goods back home, for some reason, so this was a change for me. I enjoyed hanging out with Ri'saad and his friends. They seemed very close. Ri'saad had been running the caravan for ten years after moving north from Elseweyr. He was thirty-two years old, only a few months older than me. Although I had been experiencing an unexpected level of hospitality, for the first time, I felt like I belonged in Skyrim. I felt as though I was a part of the people. My feeling of belonging gave me a new confidence to move on to bigger adventures, whatever they may be. Skyrim was ripe with its own problems and mysteries, and I settled to make myself a part of all of them.

Just as I was finishing, I caught sight of a band of guards following the Jarl's housecarl, a Dark Elf. They were heavily-armed, and given who they were following, this had to be something important.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" I inquired.

"The traveler?" she seemed surprised, but not unsettled, to find me.

"Oh." I realized approaching her was a stupid idea. "Am I interrupting something important?"

"It is potentially important." She continued walking, and I followed. "We're investigating a dragon sighting. I suppose you see that every guard here is an archer."

"Right, yes. Where was the dragon?"

"It attacked the Western Watchtower. It finished what it supposedly came to do, but we need to make sure it doesn't cause more trouble."

"May I follow?"

She looked me up-and-down. "It seems you are capable enough. Allow me introduce myself more properly. My name is Irileth. As you already know, I am the Jarl's housecarl."

"I remember you. My name is Karal'e, I'm from Cyrodiil, and my father is a Legate."

"Impressive. I've heard you have endurance suiting that of a warrior."

"If that's what others think, I must."

We took a right through a fork in the road, and soon arrived at what was left of the Western Watchtower. The plants and soil showed evidence of burning. A familiar sight for me.

Irileth stopped her soldiers and ordered, "Everyone, search for survivors."

I glanced up to the mountains before us. It was common knowledge that dragons typically roosted at mountain peaks. Just as I was wondering where the dragon had gone, the winged silhouette soared from behind the mountaintops. It angled itself down, moving faster and faster towards the tower. Guards began to scatter and draw their bows as the dragon mounted itself on the roof of the burning tower.

"Don't hold back, soldiers!"

Instead of drawing my bow, I repeatedly shot lighting attacks at the dragon, which briefly distracted it, causing it to leave the tower to circle over the area and shoot torrents of fire at the guards. The soldiers unloaded arrows, striking the dragon's underbelly and cutting holes in the wings. Flying was becoming increasingly difficult for the dragon, and I saw that as an opportunity. I used both of my hands to cast an over-charged bolt of lighting at the dragon's head, stunning and paralyzing it. The dragon took a nosedive, plowing through a farm and ruining the caravan camp, sending debris scattering everywhere.

As soon as I realized where it had landed, I ran up to the camp's remains, where an Imperial soldier executed the paralyzed dragon with a sword through its head. I checked every tent. Most of the Khajiit were killed by the dragon's landing. I saw one body pinned under a boulder, another plowed in two by the dragon's head. Ri'saad was caught in the ribs by a small stone, but was still alive, and clutching his side in agony. I bent down over him as he looked up at me and gently grasped my arm.

I saw that I had left my second knapsack there in my rush to follow Irileth. I quickly fished inside for a healing potion. I found three, and applied the treatment to his open wound. It soon began to clot up, and the pain subsided. His pained eyes looked up to me. He seemed too shocked to speak. The expression of gratefulness in his eyes slowly evolved into confusion. I responded with a questioning glance, but soon noticed that he was directing his eyes at the dragon's body behind me. It was beginning to glow, and the skin split and flaked off in all directions. The light obscured our vision, leaving us in a white void, and his grip on my arm grew tighter. I could feel a familiar sensation as ribbons of magic grasped at my beating heart, sucked a great power within me, and released its hold on my soul. I felt less weary than I was the last time this occurred, but my mind was still reeling.

As I regained my focus, I saw that nothing remained of the dragon but its skeleton. A booming voice roared through the clouds, shouting "DOVAHKIIN" as a crowd gathered, but not for the flying beast.

Everybody was staring at me.


	4. Dragonborn

I felt empty, closed, and trapped.

My heart felt as though it were made of stone, and I could no longer hear it beat. Nothing in the room existed to me but the figure lying on the bed before me. There was a scar on his face and a bandage around his torso. I found myself wondering if he could walk. I couldn't comprehend where I was, only who I was with, and why.

_I am the Dragonborn. I am the vanguard of life and safety. And I hurt him. This is _my_ fault._

Everything felt empty to me. How could I let this happen? Only hours ago did I learn the most important part of who I was and what I was meant for. I have already failed at my job. Why am I even alive? I should've let the dragon kill me.

"Karal'e?", a nameless voice spoke from behind me. "The Jarl would like to speak with you. If you're ready."

The concept of my location came back to me. I held my gaze on Ri'saad for a moment, lifted myself from the chair, and left the room for matters more far-reaching.

* * *

As I stood before the Jarl's throne, the shadows cast upon the ceiling seemed to stare down at me with an atmosphere of judgement. I had nothing within me, and nothing to say, so my Jarl was the first to speak.

"I have heard about what happened at the Western Watchtower," the Jarl stated. "It really was a great victory."

It certainly didn't feel like it. I stood silent, but listening, and the Jarl ceased waiting for a response.

"You know how important this is, and how important you are," he said. "And you must know the feeling of loss and guilt to move on. Gain strength."

If only I knew what that felt like.

"The Eight have sent you down here for a tremendously significant purpose, and although you must make your decisions alone." The Jarl prepared his words. "You need the proper resources to accomplish this. I am making you a Thane of my court."

I still had nothing to say. The significance didn't take root in me. Why couldn't I grasp the weight of that statement?

"I am honored, my Jarl."

"Your house is completed. I can now grant you the assistance of a housecarl. I believe she is on her way here to take you there. I should also advise you to speak with the Greybeards about this."

"Thank you, sir," I punctuated.

I was dismissed. Out of a door to the side, I watched as my new housecarl approached to introduce herself.

"Hello, my thane. My name is Lydia and I am your new housecarl," she stated with pride.

"Uh, I'm not big on formalities, Lydia. You can just call me Karal'e."

"All right, then," she said, shifting to a more relaxed stance. "I was sent because Irileth thinks I'm one of her best and I've been trying to find my way out of bureaucracy, anyways, so..."

"You won't find too much with me, I can promise that much," I said. "I hope you can fight close-range, though. I'm a bit rusty in that area."

"You'll have no problems with me, my-" She paused. "...Karal'e,"

There was an exchange of shaking hands before we went "backstage" to the guard's barracks, where Ri'saad was being kept. Lydia followed me there. I pensively opened the door, and was surprised to see that he was up and walking without a problem. As soon as he saw me, he strode up to me with wide eyes and wrapped his arms around my waist. Then he lifted me at least two feet up.

"P-please put me down," I strained before he dropped me back on my feet.

"This one is glad to see you in one piece," Ri'saad said with enthusiasm. He complied by putting me back down, but he kept his left hand on my bicep.

"I should be saying that to _you_," I said, surprised.

"That is why it feels great to see you," he said as his voice lowered. "You're... the only person Ri'saad has left." He couldn't find anything to say, and let go of my arm.

"You should live with me. We have three beds over there, so there's room."

"That would be very nice, of you," he stuttered. "Do they have this one's belongings?"

Lydia interjected with some reluctance. "They're supposed to be back at the house, they were shipped with the furniture." She paused for a moment. "I'm really sorry, by the way."

"That is fine, this one thinks he can cope on his own."

I looked at Ri'saad questioningly. I could see right though him, because I know how difficult it can be to lose just _one_ person who is close to you right before your eyes. I couldn't imagine how it felt for him to lose his entire caravan. Knowing that he would talk to me about it if he wanted to, I didn't say anything. The three of us filed out of Whiterun, but we stopped by the dismantled dragon bone. Farengar wanted to keep a few bones for study, but I had my own ideas for the rest of it.

* * *

The house had a broad, rectangular shape. There was one large room with a dining table leading to a fireplace, with two doors on either side of the mantle, leading to a storage room in the back. The dining room had a raised ceiling, with a second-floor balcony wrapping around an opening to the dining table below. Two sets of stairs on both sides led up, and above the storage room were one large and two average bedrooms. As boring as that sounds, it sure _looked_ exciting.

After all, not every house had the spine and ribcage of a Dragon lining the ceiling of the main hall. Or a chandelier of Dragon teeth, either.

"By the Twin Moons," said Ri'saad.

"Kick. Ass," Lydia said.

"I call it Dragon-blood Manor," I stated. "This makes me look so full of myself, and normally, I'd care. But this is worth it."

My new companions nodded in agreement. We couldn't settle in a more appropriate home.

* * *

After a day in the house, Ri'saad and I had filled ourselves with enough energy from food and sleep to get up from our beds for more than five minutes. Lydia stood watch most of the time and cared for herself in terms of nourishment. I compensated by giving her a day off watch duty, but she still insisted on switching me indoors for meal-time. Ri'saad and I sat in the storage room where a table and three chairs had been set up. I looked over at the opposite corner at our new alchemy lab, gifted to us by Farengar.

"That was unusually nice of him to give us an alchemy lab," Ri'saad pointed out.

"Friendly faces are hard to come by," I sighed. "I'm glad to have two staying here with me."

"Well, in your case..." He leaned slightly forward over the table. "This one has three friends. Ri'saad couldn't have imagined a better person than you, and might as well count you in twice."

The warm feeling spread through my face. I was sure he could see it, but I futilely looked away, and I said, "You've definitely made a habit out of making me feel even luckier."

Ri'saad seemed satisfied with the line of conversation and switched topics. "This is rather large for a first home, being made before you knew about..." He avoided saying it for a moment. "The dragon thing."

"Dragonborn? Yeah," I clarified. "But I should remind you that I had a lot of gold and the man had some bias due to my magic background and the fact that I retrieved a very rare artifact for him. Looking at my surroundings, I think risking my life was well worth it."

Lydia returned almost as soon as I had finished speaking. Ri'saad immediately ceased lounging forward and sat straight up. She chuckled to herself. "At ease, Ri'saad. You look nervous."

"Ah, well," he stumbled. "This one is just settling in to sleeping in a house."

"Bullshit, you slept like a mammoth," she jabbed.

He seemed taken aback. "Ah, it was very comfortable, this one remembers!"

The housecarl rolled her eyes and asked him, "How do you fight?"

"Infrequently, but with daggers, preferably two," he said. "This one was taught to fight quietly, but does not anticipate much silence here."

I got up, realizing nobody was outside. "I'm going on defense shift, I'll be back later."

Ri'saad stood up and stopped me, saying, "You know, you could have _this one_ do some work and feel like he's contributing."

"Are you feeling okay enough?" I said. He gave me a comically dirty look. "All right, go ahead. You have a weapon?"

"Two," Ri'saad said as he pulled out twin steel daggers.

"Right, even better," I said as I returned to my seat. Lydia replaced Ri'saad in his seat as he left.

We sat without speaking for at least a few minutes. Lydia got an unnervingly devious look on her face.

"So, _Ri'saad..._"

"I hate you already."

"Good!"

* * *

The next day, we decided it was time to visit the Greybeards. I decided it would be most appropriate to take Lydia with me and leave Ri'saad behind for defense, since he seemed capable enough. We left early in the morning and traveled to Ivarstead, a small town at the foot of the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar, which sits near the top of Skyrim's highest mountain peak.

We passed through the quiet farm town without much notice when an elderly man saw us approaching the bridge to the steps, and hobbled hastily up to us.

"Excuse me, travelers," he said. "Are you heading up the steps?"

"Yes, all of them," I responded.

"Oh!", he exclaimed. "Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Klimmek, and I make a trip up the steps every year to deliver supplies to the Greybeards."

"Do you want us to help you?"

"Oh, yes, please! I have been doing this for years, but I am far too old to continue. I was going to get someone I knew to do this job, but if you help me out, I'll be sure to pay you!"

"We'd be glad to help you," I said. "Do you have the supplies?"

"I will get them now, they're in my shop." He hobbled away.

Lydia walked up next to me, then shook her head disapprovingly. "You're way too nice, Karal'e," she said. "What if he wants us to carry a damned pile of ore? I don't think we have time for this."

Klimmek hurried back to us with a small sack of carrots. He said, "Here you are! Thank you so much!" I took the small sack, nodded politely, and returned Lydia's glare of disapproval.

* * *

We decided to count the steps on our way up. The stairs rose up the steep cliff face, winding through crevices and small, wintry valleys. The snow sprinkled gently at 100, rained incessantly at 200, poured by the gallon at 400, and we gave up counting when it began to drop in heaps. Visibility, in places, was very low. We were attacked by wolves pretty often, which would normally be no problem. Thankfully, the load we bore was not heavy enough to pull us down the cliff.

"Oh, by the Eight, Lydia! I simply cannot _bear_ to lift these carrots any longer!" I shouted over the sound of the snow storm.

"_Shut up!_", she yelled in response.

Sooner than we had anticipated, the snow began to clear up. Our field of vision grew until we were able to see the peak of the mountain, which was much closer than we thought. It looked like we only had a little ways of walking left. After a few moments, we reached a steep cliff that led to a castle in the distance. High Hrothgar.

We stopped and stared along the path, not expecting the place to be so incredible. My immersion was broken with a resounding thud, and I found that a Frost Troll had approached from behind. Lydia drew her greatsword in defense as I drew a fire spell. I threw firebolts at the troll's face, blinding it to Lydia's powerful strike to the torso. It still put up a fight. A glance behind the troll gave me an idea. I blinded it with fire again, then dual-cast a fireball, launching it off the cliff behind. As it fell to the base of the mountain, we watched, relieved that we were able to take it down after such a long walk up.

We glanced forward again at High Hrothgar, near the top of the Throat of the World. Just a few more sets of stairs to go. I had much to know about being the ultimate Dragon-slayer, and this was my only chance to learn.


	5. Ustengrav

The interior of High Hrothgar smelled of dust and soot, and felt cold and empty, given its population of silent and peaceful monks. None of them could speak, lest their power overwhelm their surroundings. The only chance I had to hear all of them was when I was called upon before. The one Greybeard that could speak safely, Arngeir, was left to be my mentor.

"Come here, Dragonborn," he said as he directed me to the center of the main hall. Statues of Dragons lined my presence as I learned. He continued the lesson. "We shall teach you the power of the Unrelenting Force. You have first learned the word 'Fus'. Now you must broaden your knowledge with the next word in this shout."

Another Greybeard approached the center, softly breathing an inscription into the ground. The knowledge of Unrelenting Force soon flowed into me. Lydia was enthralled by the amazing display of magic.

"Now, Dragonborn," Arngeir requested. "Let the unrelenting force leave you."

"Fus..." I prepared as a great power built within me. "_Ro!_"

A strong barrier of magic repelled itself from my soul, kicking up waves of dust and pebbles from the ground. Lydia had a brief coughing fit in the background.

"Very good, Dovahkiin. Now, we shall follow Master Borri to the courtyard, where we will teach you the Whirlwind Sprint, with the word 'Wuld'."

The group strode through the large iron doors in the rear of the building, opening up to a courtyard where the air sat still. I could sense a stiff feeling in my nose and ears, and Lydia's face was already turning red. Another Greybeard blew a word of the Dragon language toward the snowy ground, breathing the letters of the word Wuld into the soil. Again, the ribbons of magic flowed into me. The stiff sensation of cold in my nose dissipated for a moment before returning again. The monks led me to two pillars, with a gate in the distance. Arngeir continued to instruct me.

"Now, Master Borri will open the gate. When he does, I want you to use the power of Wuld to pass through."

I waited a few moments, and then Borri opened the gates with his voice. I shouted, "_Wuld_," and found myself instantly propelled to the opposite side of the gates. Snow was blown in the opposite direction, leaving Lydia to wipe her face of it.

"Very impressive," Arngeir enthused. "You seem to have a profound grasp of the art of shouting, as expected from a mortal born from Dragons."

"Thank you," I said as I bowed in respect.

"We still have one more test for you to complete. We need you to retrieve a lost artifact of ours, the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, from the Nord tomb of Ustengrav."

"I will find it as soon as I can."

"We have confidence in your abilities, Dragonborn. We anticipate your return soon."

I bowed once more, and showed myself out from High Hrothgar. Lydia and I continued down the steps once more. _7,000 steps, like a step for each day I must endure this life long adventure_. I couldn't imagine the war with the Stormcloaks and the attacks of the Dragons ending any time soon. We hired a carriage at dawn, and I pictured myself, old and grey, approaching the final judgement as I faced the last dragon of Tamriel. I couldn't imagine that the man that was once just a boy with a troubled past was the fated savior of man and mer. My father would be honored, and my mother would be proud. Just not together. My parents had separated as my father's distance grew farther. Without his support, my mother was failing financially. Not able to bear the stress, my sister ran away. All my father had were a bunch of decade-old badges and a stash of skooma to show for his "efforts" of success.

Tired from the mountain trek, I fell asleep, and dreamed of the image of my final battle. I was fighting a fierce and profoundly threatening dragon, but I was not very old. I felt barely different. I had five great warriors by my side, each seemed of my age, although I could only recognize two...

* * *

We returned home with Klimmek's reward for delivering the supplies, and a note of the location of Ustengrav. I knew that we needed to get the Horn as soon as we possibly could, given the dire importance of the matter. We returned to Dragon-blood Manor by dusk. The carriage stopped, and the two of us dropped from the opening. Ri'saad was already awake, standing not far from the home, using his steel dagger to carve an image into a mighty oak tree. I stopped mid-step when I saw what he had created. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing.

It depicted the image of a large dragon, spreading its wings, casting its broad shadow over a small and helpless village. Each small house had the carvings of straw roofs and each little person, however individually unimportant, contributed to the graceful congruity of Ri'saad's masterpiece.

"This one may need a stool soon," he said in a nonchalant manner. "There are some high-up details this one cannot reach to carve." He leaned upward, as if arcing his line of sight over a great wall.

"Ri'saad," I barely spoke, in awe. "How long have you been able to do this!?"

"Oh, a while," he said. "This one would make carvings in firewood before he burned it at camp. Usually thoughts and memories that haunted dreams. Ri'saad learned this at the orphanage. Had much time to waste, you see." He glanced over at me with a warm smile and a certain brightness in his eyes. I interpreted that as well-deserved pride.

He had told me about his orphanage before, about how his mother gave him up when he was young. He stayed there until his late teens. When the orphanage wasn't making any progress, and nobody wanted to adopt him, he decided to leave and became a beggar in Skyrim. After a year of that, he was picked up by a caravan, and eventually became its leader.

In my flurry of thought, I had nearly forgotten about Lydia, who was nearly speechless. She expected this even less than I had.

"This one has had dragons on the mind, for obvious reasons, and what better way to express our shared purpose?"

"It doesn't look very optimistic, but I love it," I responded. I looked him in the eyes and said. "What a beautiful thing to come home to."

Once again, he bore an expression of temperate satisfaction, and glanced down at his feet. He said, "What have you learned, Dragonborn?"

"That we need to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller at a Nord tomb in Ustengrav."

"Doesn't sound safe. Do you want this one to come with you?"

Lydia approached and snapped, "Well, _I'm_ done with walking for a long time. A very _damned_ long time. I'll be sleeping." She retreated into the house, leaving Ri'saad and I to the symphony of nature.

"This one thinks we should be getting some rest as well," he said.

"Heh, so we can be wide awake to disturb the rest of the Draugr?"

"Don't remind Ri'saad," he groaned.

We left nature to its privacy to enter our own. Within the oak tree's bark, the murderous dragon continued its eternal reign of fire on the nameless villagers. The sun set beyond our home, shrouding the scene in darkness, leaving the orchestra to the crickets and the owls of the night.

* * *

The next morning was brisk, as Skyrim mornings go. Ri'saad had his mother's blanket wrapped around himself, but was still shivering, and leaning up against me. It took a few hours to reach the dense swamplands surrounding Morthal. The carriage driver couldn't enter the town from the direction we came from, so he'd dropped us off by a crevice to the unpaved main street.

Almost as soon as people saw us, their faces turned from expressions of misery to disdain in some, and outright disgust in others. It became apparent to us that this small, wrecked village was not welcoming to outsiders. We could not find a single person at work, and the only pavement was on an old bridge that lead out of the sleepy hamlet.

"Ri'saad does not like the feel of this town," he spoke in a low whisper.

"I know. They don't seem to like travelers stopping by. It's weird, because it looks like they could use some money."

Before we stepped up onto the bridge, a small boy approached us, and told us, "My mother tells me to leave people like you alone. But I want the voices to stop, and she won't help," He then proceeded to walk solemnly away.

Ri'saad's only reaction was to slowly back behind me. We tried to ignore what the boy said and continued to Ustengrav.

* * *

The tomb was underwhelming. I guess not all Nord tombs were as outwardly impressive as Bleak Falls Barrow. This pathetic little entrance was nothing but a cylindrical pit with stairs and a door to enter the place. Ri'saad tied his blanket firmly around his waist and drew his twin daggers. I opened the door and we both crept in cautiously.

We were greeted by a typical tomb hallway, with some empty crypts on the walls. I nearly tripped over a pickaxe, and decided to pick it up and latch it to my belt. I lead Ri'saad through the twists and turns of the hallway until we came to the first large room. Two bandits were inside, speaking something unintelligible. Waiting in hiding, we watched as the Draugr inside awakened. The jarring _thud_ of the crypts bursting open made Ri'saad flinch. When the bandits and Draugr began to battle, we saw that as an opening, and charged in with our blades and spells. The Draugr made quick work of the bandits, and turned immediately toward us. I shot one Draugr with a lightning spell and torched the other with flames. I looked back to see Ri'saad in a sort of sheepish, weak fighting stance, as though he had never fought before. I chuckled and signaled for him to follow.

We searched each room and chest for treasure. We found a little bit of gold, some gemstones and jewelry. What really caught my eye was a spell book, still in perfect condition. It probably belonged to the bandits, but I didn't care.

"Oh, yeah! Spell book! Who needs to sleep with _this_ to read!?", I exclaimed.

Ri'saad seemed confused, but endeared by my enthusiasm for reading and magic. He himself apprenticed in conjuration while he was with the caravan, but his mentor and friend didn't make it through the dragon attack, so spells were still a relatively unfamiliar art to him. I made myself promise to teach him some things, and hopefully learn new spells myself.

The two of us battled chamber after chamber, and Ri'saad's fears of the undead seemed to ease with each conflict. He strode further into the room in battle. He ceased waiting for enemies to come to him. Eventually, he didn't need to stay so close by me. By the time we had reached the giant cavern, _he_ was the one leading _me_.

Funny how we switched roles like that.

The cavern in question was something that seemed to have been taken out of a book. A giant, roughly egg-shaped chamber with an opening for sunlight to fall through, decorated with plants and trees.

"This is _not_ what I was expecting," I said, admiring the natural beauty.

"This one has heard of things like this, but to think Ri'saad would see one."

We made our way down the cliff face to a Dragon word wall in the lowest gardens. There, I found a new shout, which I could now understand with my new Dragon abilities; "Become Ethereal". As I took in the knowledge of the new shout, Ri'saad watched with a look of fascination, before looking back up to the ceiling of the colossal cavern.

"This place is very beautiful," he said.

I walked up beside him, and turned my eyes to him as I said, "Yes, it is."

After a few moments in the cavern, we continued to scale the opposite cliff face to reach - big surprise - more tombs. The undead truly were relentless. They had no other reason to exist but to defend their burial place. We, however, weren't keen on the notion of joining them. By this point, slicing the Draugr into fine sections proved to be easy for Ri'saad to handle.

Eventually, we found ourselves at a great iron door. Pushing as hard as I could, it budged just enough for us to get through. What we found was a large pool of water with a bridge spanning towards what seemed to be the pedestal for the Horn. As we walked forward, giant statues of Dragon heads rose from the water on either side of the bridge, as though greeting me to the end of my quest.

That is, what I _thought_ was the end of my quest. The pedestal did not have the horn, but it had a note, requesting for "the Dragonborn" to meet someone at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, by requesting for the "Attic Room". The details troubled me. It felt like some sort of trap, but I had little else to do but comply. If I didn't, it would be a dead end. The heavy disappointment was compensated for with large amounts of treasure. We piled it into bags, and took a backdoor out of the tomb.

* * *

As we sat again on the carriage ride home, the air was just as brisk as in the morning. Ri'saad was one again snuggled in his mother's blanket, comforted by the fine weave. He told me of the story that the blanket is all he has ever known of his mother. He showed how the blanket depicted a family. A mother, a father, and three little sons. He never remembers seeing any of them. He explained to me that his blanket doesn't just give him physical warmth, but some sort of spiritual warmth, as though he connected with his family through the blanket.

"What of your family, Karal'e? What do you have?"

"Nothing. I don't even have a blanket, or ring, or anything. I could've left with something, but... I didn't," I reflected. "I guess that, after what I'd found that day, that I just wanted nothing to do with my life back there anymore."

"What did you find?"

"Well... It was a week after my mother's birthday," I recalled. "My mother and father had drifted to the point that they hadn't seen each other in the-Eight-know-how-long, and I had ran home from Rodryck's house. I went inside, found the entire house in disarray. Everything knocked over. Even the table was just... broken. I called for my mother, knowing something had gone terribly wrong."

Even the breeze stilled to listen to my story.

"I crept into my mother's bedroom... And I found what had been left of her lying in bed. She was gone. I didn't even look very hard after I realized. I just ran."

For the first time I could remember, I felt myself begin to cry at the memory of what had led me into this unforgiving fate in the first place. I shook, but not from the cold. Ri'saad removed his mother's blanket and covered me, resting his head on my shoulder and falling softly asleep.


	6. Kynesgrove

We stood in the yard between the house and the foot of the Throat. The breeze would occasionally blow, but what might be a gust out front would be a strong wind near the cliff. There were many low rocks by the cliff. I sat myself down on one, waiting for Ri'saad to retrieve our new spell book from indoors while Lydia stood off to the side, practicing archery on a target nailed to a tree. The sound of the side door jolted me to attention. Ri'saad brought the book over to me and flipped it to the page that taught the conjuration of a Familiar.

"It took you long enough," I groaned.

"Ri'saad apologizes. This one would have brought it earlier had Ri'saad not spilled mead on the pages."

"Nice one," Lydia quipped, as she shot another arrow.

Ri'saad spun around and said, "It was not this one's fault!" He looked back to me and sighed. "All right, it was. This one can still read it, though."

He handed the book to me. I read through the entry, which was surprisingly small. As hinted by the name, the spell conjures a powerful familiar figure for defense. After waiting a few moments, I got up, and prepared the spell. The magicka concentrated within my palm, and I cast it at the ground. A figure steadily formed into the vague shape of a wolf before collapsing. My fists clenched.

"Augh, it shouldn't be this hard! It's a basic conjuration spell!"

"Karal'e, this is your first try. Calm down," Ri'saad said as he moved for his turn. He cast the spell, summoning a small house-cat, which trotted around and rubbed against my legs. Lydia, who had turned to watch, doubled over in hysterical laughter. Ri'saad shed his arm guards, threw them to the ground, and stormed back inside.

I crept into his room, where he lay on his bed with his hands hiding his face. He wasn't crying, but I still had an unexplainable urge to comfort him. He removed his hands from his face, laying them by his sides. I gently grasped his arm. As I was about to ask him what was wrong, he jumped ahead with an answer.

"Just weak and useless, that's all this one is," he spat.

"There's no reason for you to think that."

He turned his head to face me, the candlelight flickering on his face. "This one doesn't learn. He just stays behind, scared to do anything. Ri'saad doesn't help you."

"You've helped me. Why do you think this? Because you're scared of Draugr? That's nothing."

He turned back to stare again at the ceiling. "Ri'saad is aware of what he is in for. You are the Dragonborn. This one needs to be prepared for anything, and he is not, by a long shot. This one just can't grasp what it means to work for you."

"You're not working _for_ me. You're working _with_ me. I know that I am technically important, but to me, you're even more than equal to me. It feels like you're greater than me. I look like I'm ready for this, but I'm not. I have no _idea_ what to expect. That's why I have you and Lydia with me."

"What does this one give you that nobody else can?"

I knew there was an answer, but I couldn't find the will to put it into words. There was something that I knew I needed to say, and at the same time, felt as though I couldn't. There was something pulling me back.

"You're just... really important to me, Ri'saad. You give me strength."

That would have to do.

After he had calmed down, I brought him outside to resume training conjuration. To shorten a long story, I managed to get a wolf Familiar going for more than thirty seconds. Ri'saad refused to attempt his familiar again, perhaps a bit embarrassed by what it had turned out to be. He and I decided to sit on the rocks for a few minutes. After remembering what Familiars are intended to represent, I felt the need to ask him something.

"Where exactly did that house-cat come from?"

"The orphanage had one. This one had many friends, but the lack of complication involved with having a house cat as a friend was useful. Ri'saad would often cuddle him. It was quite nice," he said as looked up at the fading trees. "Some of the other kids found it a bit awkward, though."

"Hm."

He got up and approached one of the trees. I guessed that he was sizing it up to carve something. Knowing better than to distract him, I left the rocks to check up on Lydia inside, who was sitting at the dining table. She was writing in a book.

"What's going on?", I asked.

"Huh? Oh." She seemed like she was in deep thought. "I was just writing in my journal. Have a lot of things to write. Like here, where I wrote about how Ri'saad throws berries at my head and hides. He probably thinks I have no idea, the jackass."

"I didn't know you kept a journal."

"I've had it for a while. This is my second book. I started around when I lost my father."

"Oh," I said as I sat down next to her. "I'm sorry to hear about that. What did your father do before?"

"He lived fighting for the Legion, and died like that, too."

"An honorable end. He fought for his beliefs. I like that."

"Yeah. There's a bit of a story to it, too," she said before shifting in her seat to face me. I could tell that she was in the rare mood to share.

"I'm listening."

"Well, here's what happened. They were stationed out near the border of the Pale. Now, they had this little separate house where they kept the meat, and I guess the soldiers weren't good at closing the doors, and something kept stealing food. It started happening mid-summer, so when winter came around, he knew he could track footprints. He saw prints, and thought they were wolf prints. Unfortunately, that day, he was extremely drunk and only brought a sword and no armor with him. He went out into the woods alone, assuring the soldiers that he could take care of himself. He found the meat and the culprit. Turns out, the prints were actually skeever prints, and... he was too drunk to defend himself."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah. He was a heavy drinker," she sighed. "If you tell anyone else, I'm shoving a dragon bone up your ass."

"All right, nice talk."

"See you later, yeah."

I moved upstairs to the balcony, and turned around to see Ri'saad's drawing desk, littered with quills and paper. He was quite the artist. There was one drawing that he hadn't put away. I stood over the desk and looked down to see what it was. The drawing was of a Khajiit, sitting on the rocks by the house, contently reading a Conjuration spell book. His work always had such affectionate detail.

* * *

After that day of rest, the three of us had decided to leave for Riverwood, as the note had said to. Lydia had pointed out that the situation could easily have been set up as an ambush. We arranged with the Jarl to send men over to "build [us] a library". To be fair, that _is_ what they were doing, but it wasn't the only purpose. We needed more strength as a precaution.

When the carriage dropped us off at Riverwood, we entered the Sleeping Giant Inn. Delphine was behind her counter, as usual. I approached her casually. She seemed to be glad to see me again.

"Hello, uh, Karal'e?", she asked.

"Yes. We're here to rent the attic room," I said as casually as I could manage.

Her reaction was one of surprise. I wasn't sure how she didn't expect it to be me.

"We... don't have an attic room here, but I can give you this room over to the side." She led us into the room and approached the wardrobe. She took the Horn from a desk text to it and handed it to me. "I need to speak with you privately."

She opened the wardrobe, which was empty, and pushed on the back panel. It swung open, revealing itself as a secret doorway. We walked down the stairs into the basement, where a table stood in the center, and many supplies were lined against the walls. As soon as we were all in the room, around the table, she addressed us. "I'll bet you're wondering why I took the horn. I am part of an organization who has been looking for someone like you."

"Looking for the Dragonborn, right? Why?", I responded.

Lydia stepped forward and said, "Also, why bring us in like this? Why not just _find_ us? We're not very well-hidden."

Delphine seemed annoyed by the questioning. "I needed to get your attention somehow, and I made you rent the room to protect against the Thalmor. Now, the reason I need _you_, Karal'e, is because the Dragons are not _returning_. We believe they are being _resurrected_." She paused and took a good look at me. "The Greybeards may have taken a liking to you, but I still need to see your power for myself. Supposedly, only you can absorb a Dragon's soul and prevent them from being resurrected again. The Dragonstone you got from Bleak Falls Barrow shows that the next resurrection is set to occur at a mound in Kynesgrove."

"Who is resurrecting them?", Ri'saad asked.

"We'd like to know that, ourselves."

"And who is 'we'?"

"I can answer that later. For now, we need to get to Kynesgrove. We can rent a carriage. Once I see you slay a Dragon, I will accept you for what the Greybeards say you are," she explained. "Much as I'd be surprised that the Dragonborn is a Khajiit. I'd expect the Eight to send a Nord."

Once she had equipped her armor, she led us to a carriage. I was shaking with anticipation and fear. I was about to have the opportunity to slay another Dragon. My hopes were that I could save people and redeem myself for the guilt caused by my last encounter. Ri'saad, who sat next to me, seemed even more outwardly nervous, tying his fingers together and glaring worriedly down at them. Lydia looked at us both. I wasn't sure if she had faced a Dragon before, but based on her confusion towards our nervous expressions, she probably didn't know what she was in for.

* * *

Our arrival in Kynesgrove was late in the day. We rushed out of the carriage, as we could already hear the sound of a Dragon's voice. Our assumption was that the dragon had already been resurrected, and that we were too late. We dashed past the inn and up a wooded hill, following the path to the burial mound. A Dragon flew adjacent to the mound, but the burial site itself was still intact. The Dragon was black, with distinct spines running the length of its body. Familiar memories were jogged in my mind. This was the Dragon that had attacked Helgen.

This is the reason I am here.

It used some sort of shout that shook the soil of the mound. Soon, the surface tore as the skeletal arms emerged from the hill. One arm, then another. The claws grabbed hold of the circle of stone and pushed upward, lifting the body from the ground like a range of mountains. The bones of the undead Dragon shimmered, then glowed, as the flesh of the Dragon regenerated. The head and tail left the ground with ease, and soon the recreation was complete, and soaring through the air above us. We readied our spells and bows.

As we had expected, the Dragon returned to make a first supper out of us. It attempted to roast us with fire breath. Trying my previous tactic, I attempted to shock it to the ground, but this proved futile. We stabbed, shocked and burned the Dragon until it could no longer bear to fly under the pain. It plummeted downward, plowing through trees, throwing aside rocks and soil. It got up wearily to its feet. This thing was not ready to die any time soon. Ri'saad had grown weary, and began to retreat backwards. At that point, I was only annoyed. I unsheathed my sword, emboldened, and dashed at the Dragon to mount my sword in its neck.

My move was thoughtless, and the Dragon easily whipped me with its head, throwing me aside and nearly knocking me out. Ri'saad had assumed I had been critically injured, and his face twisted in fury. Knowing he could do nothing else, he summoned the Familiar spell, and cast it at the ground before him with more force and willpower than he knew he had within him. As the spell formed, the house-cat grew twenty times its size into a ferocious, rage-driven Sabre Cat. The feral beast immediately lunged onto the Dragon's head and bore its claws deep, gouging out all it could, and visually incapacitating the offender. Ri'saad then took the opportunity to impale the flying demon with ice spikes. The Dragon ceased resistance, and Lydia dealt the finishing blow to the head. Its newly-formed skin went to waste and dissolved, freeing the soul to the confines of my being as I gained the strength to lift myself from the ground.

Ri'saad, followed by the other two, rushed to my aid. "Are you injured?", Ri'saad asked, barely able to contain his shaking.

"I feel beat, but I'm not injured," I said as the comfort of his grip on my arm settled me. Delphine approached, dumbfounded, and impressed.

"So you really _are_ the Dragonborn! This is incredible!" Delphine stated, tired and ecstatic. "There's so much I need you to do."

"_After_ we help Karal'e," Ri'saad snapped with a sharp, harsh tone that startled me.

"Yes, I have healing potions back at the Inn."

"No, this one is taking Karal'e to our territory. If you have anything to say, or actually give a damn about the emotions of your newfound _treasure_ of a person, you may follow."

Lydia's face went pale as she awkwardly backed away. Delphine, however, seemed offended. "You're not trying to say he isn't important for our future, are you?"

"Ri'saad is saying that he won't put up with you treating him like he's your sword to wield. We work on our own terms. We'll follow you when we _need_ to."

"All right, so be it." She shook frustration from her voice. "In two month's time, the Thalmor will be hosting a party. My suspicion is that they're responsible for this. If you feel like helping the cause that you're meant for, I would suggest you help out."

Delphine sat near the front of the carriage. On its way back to Riverwood, we were dropped off at Dragon-blood Manor. We found ourselves looking forward to the relative relaxation of raiding bandit camps for pay.

* * *

That night, I decided to check out the newly-finished library. In was an additional square-shaped room branching from the main hall, and about the same size. Like the dining hall, the space rose up two floors, and had one set of stairs leading to another balcony that ran alongside the face of the main room. The fireplace was made of stone with a mantle of Dragon bone. Hey, I had to keep the theme going, somehow. To the right of the fireplace was a spiral staircase that led up a small tower. I climbed the stairs and opened the door, welcoming the valley wind that embraced me.

Taking in the magnificent view, I began to reflect on my situation. It's these kinds of sensory moments that always bring out my deepest thoughts and feelings. At the time, I wasn't sure where to draw the line between purpose and emotion. At what point do my personal needs trump the battle against the Dragons? I didn't want to abandon all that I stood for. I didn't want this war to conclude the lives of the people that desired, more than anything, to fight it with me. Even so, I felt as though it was all necessary; That everyone I loved and cared for needed to die for me, as though it was meant by the Eight to happen like that. The concern that my life was completely out of my control was unshakeable.

Still, knowing that I wouldn't be troubled for another few months, I was able to find solitude. If there's nothing more I could do for the time being, I could wait in peace. Weariness beckoned for me to return to my bed, and I put an end to this coarse and stressful day.


	7. The City of Thieves

Shortly after the Dragon attack, we had returned briefly to High Hrothgar to return the Horn to the Greybeards. They all gathered in a ceremony to formally recognize me as the Dragonborn, an unsettling reality that had already sunk in for me.

Two weeks following the Dragon attack at Kynesgrove, the three of us had formulated a plan to create a more steady income. In addition to fighting bandits, we could run a store out of the Dragon-blood territory. We had a lot of rare treasure and armor to sell from bandit raids. This loot included new sets of steel plate armor. I brought up the suggestion of selling wood carvings, but Ri'saad didn't seem willing to do so. He did, however, agree to manage the trading process. A major trading route from Windhelm to Whiterun ran by our manor. It seemed as though even the war couldn't stop private trade. While the guards were spending the day at the manor finishing construction, we took the opportunity to travel to the city of Riften, knowing of the city's history of business.

The most noticeable feature of Riften is the smell of fish wafting from the sunken canal. Looking over the edge of the deck, I saw that people lived in subterranean houses lining the structure, which was filled with unsightly green water. I didn't want to think of what was in it.

As the color of the water distracted me, I felt my coin purse being removed from my side. I turned just in time to see a man turn a corner into the alleyways. The three of us gave chase, trailing the man to our best running ability, but even I couldn't match his speed. Once we had reached a graveyard behind the Temple of Mara, we had completely lost him. Thankfully, the coin purse only had 50 gold pieces inside, but I was still infuriated that I was caught unaware by one of Riften's rats.

"You probably shouldn't have traveled to the city of thieves with the coin purse hanging from your belt, my _Thane_."

"Oh, shut up, Lydia."

"Seriously, though. Ri'saad and I have our own money to spend. We're not going to die here just because some jackass took _one_ of our coin purses."

I tried to shrug it off, and led us onward to the city market. I was crossing a canal bridge when a male voice called to me. "Is this your first time in Riften?"

Caught off-guard, it took me a minute to track the voice down. "Excuse me?"

"Right here, lad," he said as I found him on the bridge. He was a ragged-looking man with a light-weight black beard. "You don't look like you know the city, looking at where you keep your money."

Too embarrassed to be upset, I questioned him. "What makes you think I'm not familiar with thievery?"

"If you were familiar with thieves, you'd be smarter while you were in the center of the art." At that remark, Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I used to steal to support my mother. I suppose you know how that feels?"

"Not exactly, but a lot of people down here do," he said as he turned to the market. "I don't know if you'd be interested in helping us out a little?"

"If you don't mind me bringing this by my parters, here."

"I've got nothing better to do than wait."

I turned Ri'saad and Lydia to the opposite side of the bridge. The housecarl had some choice words. "You can't be fucking serious! These are _criminals!_"

"They don't kill people. Most of them are poor, and have no other way to support themselves."

"That doesn't mean we should join them, Karal'e. It makes no sense. It goes against our values."

"I don't think it does entirely. Haven't you heard of how the Thieves Guild used to control this city? What if we bring it up to its former glory? We need _allies_ in this fight, Lydia, and this _is_ a Stormcloak city."

Ri'saad, the passive listener, nodded in agreement.

She crossed her arms, and reluctantly agreed. "All right, I guess it's your call, anyways."

We turned back to the bearded man, who leaned relaxed against the railing. "Do you have an answer?"

"What do you need from us?"

The man frowned, and looked toward the merchant's plaza. "We do favors for the people in town. One of those merchants over there, the Dunmer named Brand-Shei, has been quite the thorn in our side. We need him to mind his own business. I'm going to create a distraction in the plaza while you go to the jewelry stand run by Madesi, the Argonian. Steal something from Madesi's strongbox at his stand and plant it on Brand-Shei's person."

Just as he promised, the man strode into the plaza and beckoned for the citizens' attention. Brand-Shei and Madesi sat beside each other on a pile of boxes. The Dunmer was growing annoyed with the man's antics. "Oh, dear. What's Brynjolf up to now?"

The Argonian shook his head. "Probably another scam for our money. It won't work out for him."

Just as they were having that exchange, I was making quick work of the Argonian's strongbox with my lockpicks. The lock broke easily, and I took a ring from inside. Making sure to look as casual and innocuous as possible, I walked to a spot where I could see where Brand-Shei was easily. As Brynjolf told the people of some sort of amazing elixir, I crept behind the boxes that the Dunmer sat on, unaware. With deft hands, I slipped the ring into his rear pocket, and hastily snuck away.

Brynjolf dispersed the crowd, most of whom wandered away, shaking their heads. He walked up to me, back at the bridge. "Good job. Here's your pay," he said as he dropped a bag of coins in my hand.

"That's it?"

"Well, if you want to do more for us, find us down in the Ratways at The Ragged Flagon. It's a bar where only the best thieves in town organize. I suppose I'll see you down there?"

I shrugged. "Possibly."

As he left, I tied the coin purse he handed to me onto the side of my belt, and left to rejoin Ri'saad and Lydia. I found them over near the inn doors. Just as I rejoined them, I again felt my gold being swiped from my side. It was the same speedy thief, who proceeded to take the same path. I wasn't about to be outsmarted, so I ran around the other side of the Temple of Mara. Just as he was about to reach the graveyard, he saw me, and stumbled over a rock. The man fell flat on his face. Just as he was scrambling to his feet, Lydia and Ri'saad grabbed him by the arms. I walked up to the man, whom I was now able to see was Breton.

"Hand me my money, and don't steal from me again," I ordered as I held out my palm. Just as the man looked up at me, his eyes widened.

"What... what are _you_ doing here!?"

"Honestly, I don't think I know you, mister...?"

"It's... Rodryck."

That name almost seemed alien to me. It was a word from a past that I had extinguished from my mind, trying to fight away weakness. Now, here it is, slumped within the grip of the warriors of my future.

* * *

We followed Rodryck to his home. I almost couldn't call it that. We followed him down into the festering air of the canal, through a door that would barely open for us. Making my way indoors, I wasn't sure if I had ever seen such a miserable place. There were only two rooms with a couple cots in the corner, a campfire with a cooking pot, and some cheap chests for storage. There was a woman sitting on a pelt against the wall. Rodryck indicated to her with his hand. "This is my sister, Helen. We've been living here for about three months know."

Watching the ceiling to ensure that a rock wouldn't fall on me, I responded, barely able to believe what surrounded me. "Why are you here? You had a great life back home, with your father."

"A few years back, I moved to Helgen to run a blacksmith shop, until the entire town was destroyed by a dragon. We took everything we had, left and fled," he explained.

Initially not wanting him to know I was involved with that, I said, "I've heard about that. It must have been terrible for you. I'm really sorry."

"We almost literally have nothing left. Look at this scrapyard of a house! The only way I can support my sister and I is by stealing from people, I really hope you're able to understand that," he plead.

"I do, even if it isn't the most noble of causes," I said. "Say, can I pull you and your sister aside for a moment?"

I took the two into the second room and tried to explain who I was and how I was involved with the Dragons. How I learned who I was, where Ri'saad and Lydia come from, and all the way up to why I was there with him in Riften. They both listened intently, without interruption. Rodryck seemed nearly stunned.

"You always were good at putting things together. I'm sure you'll be able to handle this. If there's any way we can help...?"

"I'm not sure," I said, as a thought formed in my head. "Say, you come from a family of blacksmiths, right?"

"Yes, I just said that I ran a smith shop."

"Also, you can still use a mace?"

"I don't have one, but sure."

Helen chimed in, "I can use some healing spells."

Seeing that they were both uplifted by the opportunity of joining us, I decided that they would fit in perfectly, with a considerable amount of work on their skills. "I should be able to make room for you two, then. I don't know where you'd be able to sleep for now, though."

Rodryck shrugged. "We've had to get used to sleeping on stone. If there's a stable roof, we'll be fine."

"Just don't resume your habit of kicking me between the legs. Please."

He laughed. "I'll try not to."

* * *

Rodryck always was a brutish guy. He would often be tightening his hands together, as though he had some pent-up aggression to squeeze out of them. Perhaps connected to that, he had a short temper and little patience for "bullshit". Now, from the few times I had met Helen, I remember her being rather calm and content. Despite being from parents with aggressive personalities, she seemed to be able to keep herself together. In fact, she barely spoke to anyone. Even so, that didn't make her impersonal; Otherwise, she wouldn't have decided to move with her brother to run a blacksmith in Helgen. If she had the choice, she wouldn't interact with others very much.

Her brother wasn't much to look at. I don't mean that figuratively. He was a noticeably good-looking guy, and he was short, despite his muscle build. All-around small. So, there wasn't much of him _to_ look at. His hair was short and wavy, and his face was (usually) clean-shaven. His sister had equally-wavy hair that flowed barely below her shoulders. She, too, was short, and like her brother, that was compensated for with strength.

This isn't knowledge from my memories in Riften. I remembered all of that from Cyrodiil. Neither of them had changed too much, and I had plenty of time to take in most of what there is to know about Rodryck. He and I spent a lot of time together, and had few other friends. We were inseparable. When we met in Riften, we were both the same, and completely different. Our personalities had remained the same, but our knowledge and purpose had evolved, and now intertwined.

* * *

Two days following the visit to Riften, the merchant's house was complete at Dragon-blood. It stood ahead of the house itself, closer to the trading route. I had just returned from an errand run. I entered the building and feasted my eyes on the walls of gems, jewelry, armors, potions, pretty much anything we could find or make. An alchemy lab stood in the right-back corner, and the counter surrounded Rodryck in the left-back. Ri'saad and Lydia entered through the back door behind the counter with more supplies from bandit raids.

"This one is back from the smelter," Ri'saad announced as he dropped a pair of steel plate greaves on the counter. "With this. Helen's at the new forge out back."

"Yup, she works iron like a Dwemer," Rodryck exclaimed. "With all this, we'll be swimming in gold." At that statement, Ri'saad turned and glared at Rodryck in near-disbelief.

"Ri'saad hopes you know what this money is for, and how Karal'e keeps track of its use."

"What if I just want to have fun with myself?"

"This one would expect more intelligent use of our resources from someone that used to live in a _latrine_. Our gold needs to go to research and training. We have a _lot_ of work to do."

"So, are we not allowed to relax here?"

"Not when innocent people are burning to death because weaklings like _you_ choose to do nothing _about it._"

"If you don't like laziness, how come all _you_ do is gather supplies we don't even need? To sell them? What do we need money for!?", he enforced. "Are you jealous because I came from the richest family in Cyrodiil and you started out _dirt-poor_ with no parents at all?"

Ri'saad yelled and ran out the back door. The others stood still, and Rodyrck went pale as everyone's eyes shifted to him in judgement. Wanting to comfort the closest friend I had in my trials, I hurried to follow Ri'saad. Hidden in the shady woods to the west was a scene of natural beauty that I could not imagine on my own. A waterfall spilled over into a spring, from which the gentle brook of cold water flowed. My eyes searched for Ri'saad, and found him sitting on a rock, examining the pool's reflection. I strode across, disrupting his image, luring his attention slowly up at me. He returned my presence with a warm smile. I slowly sat down on the rock beside him.

"He'll get used to everything eventually, you know," I assured him.

"How is this one supposed to get used to _him_? This isn't a _game_."

"He didn't mean any of that. He's a natural asshole, let him fool around. He'll come to his senses."

"This one thinks he'll get a reminder in the form of _flames_ from the sky, and this one can't wait to watch it."

I had noticed that, the longer our duties dragged on, the angrier Ri'saad grew. This attitude seemed out-of-character for him. It upset me, because I had no idea why.

"You've been very aggressive lately. Am I doing something wrong?"

"No," he spoke, almost in a whisper. "Everyone _else_ is. It feels like, to this one, that nobody is seeing you as a person. Like you're supposed to know what to do and where to go no matter what happens, and that as long as you're in the lead, nobody else needs to be careful."

"Most people would like to believe that their own fate is in someone else's hands. It means there's less work for them."

"So, is _Ri'saad_ the one who is acting strange? Everybody _else_ is just being _normal?_ Why is _this_ one always the odd one out?"

"Please calm down. I don't think you're acting strange. I like that you care," I said. As the bubbling sound of the brook calmed my head, I could feel our tails brush together. "It's very... endearing. I think you're just stressed to your limit. I know I am. It's like everything has left me broken."

I saw a strange and oddly pleasing look overcome him. He leaned closer to me, slowly embraced my shoulders, and whispered, "Let Ri'saad fix you, then." The feeling of longing melted within me as our mouths fit perfectly together. Over at our new home, all of our problems seemed far away, and grew in distance with each passing moment. With all of the stress, anger and death that has passed me by, at that very moment, I had felt like all of my trouble was worth it.


	8. Near-Fatal Flaw

One must know where their loyalties lie. One must know who to trust, and let themselves be trusted. When one knows their destiny, they must know how to lead. They must follow their instincts, and the instincts of their team.

Those are the words I was taught to live by. I would not dare forget them.

Although I look back at my father with disgust for leaving my mother with nothing but her house and her children, I still see that he had wisdom in areas other than where he was lacking. Even if he couldn't lead his family, he could doubtlessly lead an army to victory. He was looked up to as the spitting image of what the Imperials take pride in. Thus, I feel like I am the only person left standing that knew him for who he really was.

I don't know why, but I have always had trouble putting things in the past. There are certain parts of my life that I just cannot dig from my memory because of my new hectic lifestyle, but when it comes to memories that leave more scathing burns, I find myself haunted ceaselessly. This ties in, however, to one of the few reasons I'm thankful for my divine purpose. This reason is that I have been wrapped up in my duties as the Dragonborn, leaving me little time to dwell on the insignificant corners of my past.

Another reason I have in mind is barely complicated, but I enjoy writing. Maybe I write in my journal _too_ much. Reason two is that I had been able to surround myself with new acquaintances that – some more than others – were willing to overlook my faults, and that I have seen many places that a mundane existence in an alchemy shack in Cyrodiil would not be able to take me to. Even if said places often try to get me killed, I appreciate the experience.

There are events that I would have liked to be a part of, but missed out on. While I was out on a raid, the Imperials staged an assault to take Dawnstar and, with it, the Pale. This made us at the Dragon-blood Manor feel at least a bit more secure about our location. The victory, as much of a cause for celebration as it was, didn't change the fact that we were near the halfway point between Whiterun and Windhelm.

Speaking of the celebration, this event brought on a new rush of positive emotion. We gathered at the main dining hall, conversing with jovial attitude and teasing each other as we often did. The table was blanketed with food and beverages. Black-Briar mead, apple pie, assorted fruit and steamed mudcrab legs are all that I could remember from that night. Lydia, knowing Ri'saad, insisted that we hide the Juniper berries. Ri'saad excused himself to the kitchen, leaving the four of us to discuss.

Rodryck was the first to pass a few words. "So, I went to wake up Ri'saad this morning, and he wasn't there," he directed at me suspiciously.

The sharpness of the remark unsettled me. "What do _you_ make of that?"

"I think you actually managed to get some tail. Of a sort I wasn't expecting, though."

"You should probably shut up before you say something you'll regret."

"What? Damn it, I'm happy for you," he exclaimed in defense.

Helen showed a smirk of opportunity. "And jealous."

"The sister speaks!" Rodryck said with comical shock. "And how could I be jealous? Everyone wants me. They just know I'm too much for them."

"Or perhaps too little."

"Size doesn't matter, sis," he said as he shrunk into his chair.

Just as Lydia tuned out of the conversation, she felt something small hit the back of her head. She looked down at the floor and found a Jazbay grape, which she promptly crushed in her fist.

Later, after a long day of slow sales, I headed up to the top of the library tower. The gentle breeze swept me carefully into thought. I was very content with my current situation, but well aware that the stability would soon fall to our greater duty. All the while, I had my friends at my side, and the comfort of Ri'saad to keep my sanity from slipping. The role Ri'saad played in my life was one that cannot be described with mere words. It transcended my own understanding of emotion and relationships. His presence was like a silent promise that he was watching my back, while also admiring my every move, no matter if it was foolish or clumsy. His face and his voice represented everything I had needed without ever knowing it. There was a mutual understanding in which we could see the perfection in each other's imperfection. I know that if he had a journal, he would be writing the same things about me.

When it was time to set out for our next mission, we boarded a carriage to take us to where our future waited. Nearing the proud city of Solitude, my bones were chilled by a gust from the sea. I glanced ahead towards the iconic windmill. I had only heard stories of the capital city of the Imperials, and the windmill was the most often-heard, despite the more notable feature of the city spreading across a natural arch over the river. The outer walls of the city cast shadows that even the largest of mammoths could hide within.

Being born into the Imperial Legion, I had seen the White-Gold city, and know the feeling of being in the middle of such a powerful and belittling atmosphere. Lydia had probably been to Solitude countless times, as this trip seemed no less than routine to her. Ri'saad, having spent much of his life on one road, was breath-taken by the natural display.

"Such a beautiful arch," he remarked. "Even without the settlement, this one would be impressed."

"They enjoy making a show of themselves," Rodryck responded.

"Is that why you admire them so much? Or would it be their success with _tall structures_ that you envy?"

"Cool it, princess," Lydia ordered, lounging back in her seat. "You can have your dick-waving contest later."

After a moment, Ri'saad mumbled, "...he started it," and leaned to rest on my side.

We approached the doors to the city square with haste. Most of us were visibly anxious about setting foot in the center of Skyrim's politics, and were expecting an eventful introduction. Surely enough, we got one. In the square, surrounded by a crowd of jeering citizens, was the scene of an execution. The five of us pushed through the crowd to the front.

To the sides of the bound criminal stood an official and an executioner. The guilty party had a contorted face of red skin. He clearly had a lot to say, but the official needed to speak first. "Roggvir. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered the High King. By opening that gate for Ulfric, you betrayed the people of Solitude. What do you have to say for your actions?"

Just then, a man in the crowd shouted, "He doesn't deserve to speak!", and the remainder of the crowd echoed him with cursing and insult.

"There was no murder," Roggvir directed at the people. "Ulfric challenged Torygg. He beat the High King in fair combat. Such is our way! Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!" His announcement incited another wave of yelling and protest from the crowd. The official pushed Roggvir onto the block. The traitor had one final statement. "On this day, I go to Sovngarde."

The executioner chopped his head of to punctuate his last words. Most of the crowd expressed relief that the cockroach was out of their lives. Lydia shook her head.

"I can't believe they let this happen," said Lydia.

"What're you talking about? What he did?", Rodryck said, confused.

"The fact that they executed him was fucking stupid. He couldn't have known what Ulfric did."

"Did you miss the part where he _defended_ the asshole with his dying breaths!? Even if he didn't know, the Legion is better safe than sorry."

Helen interrupted them, anxious to get something done. "We have better things to do than debate this. He's dead now. We need to find this Malborn person."

Delphine had given us orders to visit the inn in Solitude, The Winking Skeever, to find Malborn. The plan was to infiltrate a prestigious event at the Thalmor Embassy to the west of Solitude. I already had an invitation, but I needed to sneak "backstage", where Malborn would smuggle in any supplies I would need.

We entered the inn and rented a room. Malborn, a dark elf, followed us upstairs and asked me for my supplies. "What do you have? We need to get this over with."

"I'll need my steel plate armor, a health potion and my sword."

"But," he paused. "You're _wearing_ your armor."

Remembering that, I had everyone but Ri'saad leave the room. He wasn't wearing armor, because he found it unnecessary.

_I guess I'll have him help me remove my armor. Just... because, I guess._

As I began to remove my arm guards, Ri'saad unstrapped my cuirass from behind me.

"I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong here."

"What makes you say that?" Ri'saad said, reaching around to my front.

"I don't really know," I said. "Something about Delphine and Malborn is kind of setting off warning bells."

As Ri'saad crouched to pull off the lower parts of my armor, he responded with a grin, "This one thinks you'll do fine with defending yourself. You are pretty strong."

"Heh, thanks," I said. Ri'saad stood back up, turned me around, and handed me my dress clothes. I gingerly retrieved them. "If things get boring, I'll try to think of you."

His face immediately glowed in response. "We will be in Solitude while you're gone," he said. He slowly moved to embrace me, and held me tight in his arms. My sand-colored hands ran through the soft, brown fur on his back. His muscles eased at my touch. "Please stay safe."

I nuzzled my nose into the corner of his neck and shoulder before letting go and reassuring my safety with a gaze into his emerald eyes. I got dressed with little haste as Ri'saad tried not to look, with little success. After I was ready, I left with the dark elf for the Solitude stables, reminding Lydia to keep a log of the events that would occur without me.

* * *

As Karal'e's housecarl, his security is (supposed to be) my chief concern. I suppose he's powerful. Not as much as people say he is, but I was sure he'd come back with just a few scratches.

Now, at first, I started this journal mostly to vent anger and other stuff that I'll never tell anyone else. Since Mr. Dragonborn was out, and he usually kept mission records, I had to cover whatever we did while he was gone. I was pretty damned sure it would be boring, but I tried to remember as best as I could.

Poor Ri'saad seemed downtrodden about having his cuddle-buddy out in milk-drinker territory. Can't blame him. I wasn't ready to have him come home in pieces, either. Without Karal'e, I wouldn't have any challenges. I like challenges. Thankfully, it didn't have to end that way, with him gone and the team disbanded. I would really miss having berries thrown at my head. So _fucking_ fun.

Anyways, we were pretty lost, because we had no idea what _we_ were supposed to do. Solitude is well-policed enough for us to be left sitting around, twiddling our thumbs. Rodryck liked sightseeing and Helen liked the shops, so we settled to check out a store called Bits and Pieces. The lady there was pretty pleasant, and had lots of cool stuff lying around to look at. Fetched a heavy price, in a lot of cases. The first thing Ri'saad noticed was not the prices, but a blanket hung from the wall. Something about the patterns and the image - a family of Khajiit - seemed eerily familiar to him.

"Excuse Ri'saad," he said with some apprehension. "What is this?"

"Oh!", the shopkeeper exclaimed. "A nice old lady from Elseweyr came by and sold it to me. She was very nice, you know, but she looked very lonely and poor. I think she sold that to buy food."

Ri'saad's expression dropped empty. Almost as if he had realized something important. "Did she say anything?"

"Not much, I'm afraid, but she said that she needed the money because she was going through a lot of hard times. She was all alone and homeless. She explained the image here." She indicated to the family of five on the blanket. "That's her, three children, and the father."

His eyes stuck on one of the three kids, the only one with brown fur. He literally couldn't believe what he had found. It's not something you expect to see, obviously. He brought his hand up to the blanket and felt the texture that seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time. He later told me that, at that moment, he could feel the blanket telling him something; That his mother was still _there_, in Solitude. He didn't buy the blanket, but sincerely thanked the shopkeeper, and led us out. We stopped outside the door.

"Do you want to find her?" I tread my words carefully, which I wasn't used to.

"Ri'saad should," he said with indecision. "But doesn't know if he can."

Then, I felt a sensation that almost embarrassed me. I felt a sort of compassion for him. I grew up with parents that loved me the way parents should, and was given everything I needed to have the best life a young girl could ask for - and receive. He, on the other hand, had no chance.

"You know what? We have nothing else to do. Let's ask around."

While Helen and Rodryck walked around on their own, I brought Ri'saad to guards and townspeople, asking if they'd seen someone like his mother. I wasted away hours upon hours. Was it a waste of time? I guess so. It didn't feel like it was, but everything about my upbringing told me it must've been.

Eventually, we arrived at the Blue Palace, the Jarl's building. We had spent three hours by this point asking. I was tired of it, but something inside of me made me want to continue. He looked so damned _sad_, and I couldn't deal with much more of that. We stopped looking when we reached the palace.

"Looks like she left," I said.

Ri'saad looked down at his feet in disappointment. "Ri'saad thinks she wasn't here to begin with," he said as he looked up me. "Thank you, regardless."

Moments after he said that, he hugged me. And I guess it felt nice.

* * *

It didn't take long to reach the Thalmor embassy by carriage. It was a long and steep road there. I was thankful it didn't tumble off a cliff, in some places. When I entered the large and foreboding manor, I was greeted by an odd assortment of wealthy people, ranging from business leaders to Jarls and stewards.

My instructions were fairly clear. Malborn was serving drinks off to the side, in the event hall. I needed to orchestrate a distraction and sneak away with Malborn, who would then guide me to my smuggled supplies. After that, it would be left to me to fight through the building to find evidence.

In the hall, I overheard some mumblings of disdain about the Redguard guest, Razelan. Apparently, he had caused a number of drunken incidents at similar events. Soon after, he called me over.

"Hey there, buddy! Where can I get a good drink around here?"

"Should you be having a drink? You seem pretty far gone."

"Bullcrap! A good mead never cause any trouble for me!"

"If you say so," I sighed. I asked Malborn for a bottle of mead and handed it to him. No sooner did he begin to drink than he was already up rambling about some nonsense and attracting everybody's attention. Malborn quickly pulled me towards a door, and we backed into the kitchen, where a Khajiit cook was working alone.

"This one doesn't think lady Elenwen will be happy to hear about an outsider in the kitchen," she remarked.

After she said that, Malborn's face twisted into a look of passive aggression. "And I'm sure lady Elenwen would love to hear about your moon sugar addiction. I'm sure no petty hook on that stuff is quite as important as eating," he said, moving his sharp eyes closer. "...or _breathing_."

The cook was shocked and nervous at the response, and feared to lose eye contact with him. Malborn continued into the next room. I followed behind, passing a sympathetic glance at the cook, but our eyes didn't meet. She was staring toward the ground.

In the pantry, there was a chest containing my armor and weapon, as well as the healing potion. Malborn turned me around and said, "You need to search every room to find evidence of their involvement with the dragons."

"Uh, okay. If I don't find them?"

"Then this would be a huge waste and I'd send you on your way," he said, glancing away for the last part of the statement. He then handed me a parting bottle of mead, which I quickly drank without much thought.

Without so much as a farewell, I left for the living quarters of the complex. Malborn looked ahead at me with some expression I couldn't recognize. He closed the door behind me, and I could hear it firmly lock.

* * *

Once I'd gotten the teary-eyed furball back in shape, we left to find Rodryck and Helen to regroup. I figured we could take a visit to the Blue Palace and see if the Jarl had anything in store for mercenaries. We walked into the grand courtyard, past a bunch of guards. We were greeted at the door by a Legate.

"What sort of business do you have?"

"We're here to visit the Jarl for work."

"Jarl Elisef the Fair is out visiting the Thalmor Embassy at the moment and will not be back until dusk. You will need to return tomorrow."

_That sucks._

We turned around to leave, feeling a bit off-put and terribly bored. I honestly couldn't take it for much longer. Just as we left the palace courtyard, some woman in a robe called us to the side, asking for our assistance.

"Excuse me? I heard you were looking for work," she said with an undertone of worry. "I have a few problems to attend to."

Looking back at my companions to remind them to stay on-guard, we followed her into a private garden, where two other men were waiting. Ri'saad and I led the siblings in, just as the woman made a move we weren't expecting. She turned around and made a quick jab with a dagger towards Ri'saad's heart.

Clearly, she didn't know who she was dealing with.

Ri'saad immediately grabbed her arm and twisted it over her shoulder with an audible crack tearing through her bone. He pushed her to the ground, straddling her, with his twin daggers crossing her neck, ready to behead her within the blink of an eye.

One of her henchmen made a move for Rodryck, hitting him over the head with a rock, knocking him out cold. Helen twisted the man around in a headlock. The second man didn't even try anything, dropping his sword in shock. I pinned him to a wall. Ri'saad, fuming with rage, yelled at the assassin.

"What is the meaning of this _child's play!?_" he hissed.

Ri'saad scared the crap out of _me_ with that.

"The Night Mother," she breathed, shuddering. "She spoke, and he listened. The Dragonborn will _die_."


	9. Darkness Returns

We couldn't waste any time rushing to the Thalmor Embassy. The implications were mind-shattering; Someone in there was trying to murder Karal'e. I wouldn't have thought it possible that he would leave himself vulnerable, but as much as I'd like to think the Dark Brotherhood is stupid and incompetent, they managed to get pretty far with their plans. How far, though, were they willing to go to murder the Dragonborn?

Carriages were too slow for us. He bought two horses from the stables. Ri'saad and I led each of them, with Rodryck on Ri'saad's horse and Helen on mine. Needless to say, the Dragonborn's lover was far ahead of me, and speeding up. All four of us were shocked, but Ri'saad was rendered emotionless. He ruthlessly killed the three assassins upon hearing what the worthless crap sack had to say. He wanted each of their deaths on his head. He wouldn't speak a word, even with Rodryck's countless questions.

As we neared the embassy, Ri'saad stopped us, knowing that we needed to sneak inside. Delphine had told us of a little-known cave passage, and he wasted no time scraping the woods for it.

Once we finally found the cave, we rushed inside, speeding through until we saw the ice-blue walls were painted red with fresh blood. In the far corner, Karal'e lay unconscious with a stab wound in his lower torso. I couldn't even bear to look at Ri'saad's face. He rushed Helen, our healer, to Karal'e. Thankfully, she deduced that only a small fraction of the blood was his, but that whoever it was had a sadist mind befitting that of a Dark Brotherhood assassin; Our Dragonborn was both stabbed _and_ poisoned.

Helen quickly used a healing spell while Ri'saad held his precious man close, his face petrified, unable to express anything but fear. I did what I lived to do, defending the three from any attacker. Whoever was responsible for this atrocity had to be nearby. Rodryck pulled out his mace and shield, hearing footsteps approaching from a deeper passageway, which were momentarily accompanied by a voice.

"Well, now, _that_ was surprisingly simple," he said. "That poor Delphine was so ensnared by dragon-hunting that she didn't even look at who she hired to help her. Soon, I'll have a reward from her, _and_ from my Brothers for making history tonight."

"What kind of heartless beast kills innocents for money!?"

"The kind that realizes just how easy it is," he paused to show himself. "To manipulate others to get _anything_ they want." When he left the shadows, I realized who the killer was; It was Malborn.

"Do you have _any_ empathy at _all?_"

"Why waste time with other people's thoughts and feelings?" he smirked. "After all, the purpose of life is to make the best of your _own_. You, soldier, you want to die with honor, correct? Then make your superiors _proud._"

His words enticed every last ounce of rage I held within me. I charged forward, taking a mighty swing at the unarmored prick. Just as I was about to chop his hollow head off, he dodged, and vanished into thin air. At that very moment, the entire cave began to shake, and icicles threatened to nail us to the ground. Helen saw that Malborn had dropped the documents, and quickly retrieved them. We rushed out as soon as we could, and when we reached the forest, we could hear the entire cave implode. Unfortunately, we could not leave the trauma behind.

The noise scared our horses away. We had no means of return to Solitude. Ri'saad carried Karal'e, limp and unconscious, the entire distance back to the city, all the while refusing to make a sound.

* * *

The next thing I remember after entering the Embassy quarters was my awakening on a stiff bed. My field of vision was spinning. Soft hands ordered my eyes to close again. With no recollection of what had happened, I had a lot of questions to ask. However, I had no strength left to speak. A smooth, comforting voice called my name.

"Karal'e? Does it hurt?"

_Does what hurt?_

"Just relax for Ri'saad, please."

A tingling sensation began to form in my arms and legs. I began to move my fingers. Just as I started doing that, I felt someone grasp my right hand tightly. Then my sense of reality began to return to me, and brought with it a sharp and agonizing pain. The soft hands moved to embrace my shoulders, and I could feel a healing spell on my lower torso. I fought through my pain and weakness to speak.

"What's happening to me!?"

"Someone was trying to kill you," I heard Helen say. "He was from the Dark Brotherhood."

"This one was in Solitude," Ri'saad choked. "We were attacked. They almost took us, and they said they wanted to kill you." I opened my eyes to see his sullen face, and he responded with a brush of my head to dull the anger that he could see through my blue eyes.

"Do you know who it was?"

"Malborn, it was. He deceived Delphine to get to you."

"So, she's innocent?"

"We believe so."

My field of vision, as it gradually expanded, revealed that we were in some sort of guard barracks. Helen, who was still administering a spell, interjected. "They said something about the Night Mother, and how she 'spoke', and the Listener heard her call."

"What's that mean?"

"The Night Mother is the spirit of the Dark Brotherhood. I don't think she usually speaks," Helen recalled. "I don't know who the Listener is, though, and I don't like the sound of it."

"Think it's Malborn?"

"It could be him," she said. "Try not to stress about it until later."

I turned my head to my left, leaning my head wearily on Ri'saad's arm. I asked him, "Where are we?"

"We're in Castle Dour. You're a Thane, so the Imperials let us stay here," he said, sounding exhausted. "This one carried you over here."

I felt a smile grow across my face, and Ri'saad returned the warm expression. "Thank you," I whispered.

I slowly realized that Rodryck was with us as well, standing aside with Lydia. I guess they didn't know what to say. Lydia made a feeble attempt at changing the subject. "You knew Ri'saad can ride horses, right? I couldn't keep up with him."

"I almost _fell off_," Rodryck added.

"Are you sure he cared how you felt?" she quipped.

"Well, when you consider why he was rushing, it's entirely fair," he said.

Ri'saad gave him a sly look before shaking his head. "This one didn't need to help you since Ri'saad was sure you're thick-headed enough to break your own fall."

Strangely, Rodryck seemed relieved to hear Ri'saad insult him. What else happened while I was gone? I didn't have the nerve to ask.

* * *

We returned to Dragon-blood Manor, once again by carriage. Delphine had informed me that she would be there during the mission. I found her, and her assistant, in the merchant's building. She was reading some of the books about Dwemer and Falmer behind the desk, and her assistant was cleaning up. When we had returned, it was our turn to inform.

"This is bad," she said, after listening intently. "This is seriously bad. The Dark Brotherhood never allows a contract to fail, unless they find a bigger fish to fry."

"What should we do?", I asked. "We need better protection and preparation. With just the dragons on our tail, we needed a lot of training. Now we have assassins trying to wipe us out."

"I completely agree. That is why I'm leaving the Sleeping Giant Inn to stay here."

That altered Ri'saad's worried expression into annoyance. "As long as you're willing to accept _group consensus_, this one will live with you, no questions asked."

Rodryck seemed confused by the decision. "Who's left to run the Inn?"

With an expression of thought, Delphine responded, "We're leaving it to a refugee who ran an inn in Helgen. It should be in good hands now."

The Wood Elf assistant, with much deliberation, approached to introduce himself. "Hello, I guess? My name's Meranden."

"He can use enchanting and train archery."

"Also, I use war axes and alteration."

_He seems all right._

"I think you'll do well for yourself here," I said, trying to sound as honest as I could. In truth, I dread having to get used to another member, but we needed more people who could fend for themselves. "At the risk of sounding nonchalant, what should our next trip be?"

Delphine shook her head. "Wherever it is, I can't go. I have research to attend to."

"All right. Helen and Meranden can stay back, too. We need more armor with more members, and we _do_ have a shop to run."

Rodryck grabbed his mace and headed towards the back door. "So, that leaves the rest of us to go where?"

"After a good night's rest," I replied, "We need to head north. We have enough skill to spread around with weaponry, but we need to train further in magic. We're going to Winterhold."


	10. Saarthal

The once-bold wintry town was but a shade of what it used to be. The village consisted of a few houses, an inn, and a Jarl's longhouse. Near the end lay numerous burned-out structures near the foot of a towering bridge, which lead to the mighty edifice that is often the dartboard of blame for the fall of its city. The College of Winterhold.

It was the only thing I could focus on when we arrived. Then I passed in a clean line through the desolate town to approach the bridge, guarded by an elf mage. Ri'saad, Lydia and Rodryck were following behind.

"Halt! You need permission to enter," she commanded. "What are you here for?"

I stepped forward towards her. "We request access to the College to discuss the transfer of materials," I clarified. "We are from the clan Dragon-blood."

I could almost hear Lydia snicker, but I wasn't quite sure.

"Oh. Well, we've heard much about you, but I'm afraid you still need to show us your skill," she said.

_Well, damn. An entry test._

She indicated toward an inscription on the stone floor. "You must cast Magelight right there."

_...How is this place still standing?_

I quickly cast Magelight – as suggested, a ball of light – where she pointed for me to do so. Looking very bored, she motioned for us to follow her.

We continued across the bridge, which spanned a large valley to the College building, which itself is set upon a tall mesa-like rock formation. Along the way, the elf came across numerous glowing wells, in which she cast a spell to gain entry to the building. The bridge had many supports blown out and seemed very unstable, making Ri'saad visibly anxious to get to the other side. It took us nearly five minutes to reach the institution's haunting gates, which swung open to greet us to the courtyard of the College. The student guided us towards a tall statue in the center, where an old man and a High Elf stood in an exchange. They both seemed upset. We approached and heard their parting words.

"That being said, it would be most unfortunate if another slip-up like this occurs again, Tolfdir," the Altmer asserted.

"I will see to it that such accidents go unrepeated," Tolfdir complied.

"Good."

The High Elf left for the main hall. Tolfdir noticed his student had brought us over, and turned to face her. "Faralda? Who would this be?"

"These are from clan Dragon-blood."

"Really, now?" He seemed surprised to have such visitors. Or visitors, at all. "What purpose do you have for coming so far over, Dragonborn?"

"We need further preparation, and when I tried to think of the best places to find knowledge and skill, the College came to mind."

"As it should! However, we cannot just give our things away."

"We have plenty of gold in a carriage," I said, pointing behind. "Besides, I only want some basic scrolls and tomes. We each know some magic, but we have no hard materials to learn more, and I was hoping for at least 20 different documents you could spare."

"At once! I will see what I can do!", he exclaimed, turning to leave.

"Wait, though," I said reluctantly. "My mother, Merah'e, wrote quite a few books on magic. If you happen to have anything from her that you can find, could you bring them to me?"

"We have a lot to look through for something like _that_. Basic tomes will take maybe ten minutes to get for you, but... I hope you understand. In time, I might have something."

"It's fine, anyways. Thank you."

Tolfdir nodded, turning back again towards the building. My feeling of anticipation had been nulled with disappointment. A few words from Ri'saad filled the void, and brought my attention behind me.

"Speaking of whom, this one never asked about your mother's magic."

"She was, I guess, the most experienced mage I had met until now," I said. "My mother wrote a lot of books, and I learned a lot, willingly. My sister didn't like it as much."

"Oh," he said. "You never mentioned a sister."

"Marel'ja. She... ran away,"

A few moments passed. Rodryck coughed, as though the situation wasn't awkward enough.

"Excuse Ri'saad. Should not have asked."

"It's fine. It was a few days before what happened to my mother," I explained. "Maybe if she hadn't left, my mother would still be around. I wouldn't have tried to escape. I could've... Well, I don't know what I could've done."

"You could not have met this one. Or Rodryck, Lydia, and Helen."

"You're right, but I would rather not have brought you people into this."

Rodryck laid his hand on my shoulder. "As much of a pain in the ass you are, _all_ are, it's... a good kind of pain in the ass," he assured. He put his hand down. "Damn it. You know what I mean."

Next to him, Lydia tried to hide her face. She was obviously laughing.

"Shut up! Damn it, I can't even make a point with you!"

"Point taken, though," I replied. "I guess I couldn't have run from fate, anyways."

"Question is," Ri'saad thought out loud, "Are _we_ a part of the prophecy, or were we in the right places at the right time?"

The question stumped me. "I guess we can't know."

As I began to rethink my reply, Tolfdir returned with a few other college mages, carrying an assortment of tomes and scrolls. The old mage approached me. "These, we have in plentiful supply, so go ahead and keep them if you wish to. We are thankful for your presence, Dragonborn."

"I am thankful for your service," I said. The students wore robes, and although I hadn't been to the College before, it seemed as though they were leaving. "What's with the heavy robes?"

"Oh! You caught us on the day of a trip to a recently-excavated Nord tomb called Saarthal," he exclaimed. "I was hoping to show them some of the history of magic."

"Well, sounds interesting," I said. "We're pretty low on things to do, and... actually, I don't want to waste your time."

"Oh, no! If anything, if you want to come along, it would only help us!"

"Actually, I don't want _all_ of us to come. These books have to get back somehow, and I have an errand to run." I turned back to Ri'saad. "You think you'd want to go, love?"

He seemed caught off-guard, but not un-eased, by the proposition. "It would be a refreshing change of pace, this one supposes."

Tolfdir approached Ri'saad eagerly. "That sounds good to me, then. We will be leaving immediately. Saarthal is quite a ways away, so I should hope you are well-prepared!"

* * *

It is this one's turn for journalism. That is the rule. Ri'saad prefers to immortalize records in images, but this does seem less time-consuming. Letting you down, love, is a mistake that each Dragon-blood makes at least once, and soon regrets.

In a certain Breton's case... thrice. You probably enjoy punishing him, anyways.

Our departure for Saarthal was prompt, the valleys white, and the winds so chilled that this one again yearned for the sands of old. The valley swooped downwards, turning up towards the foot of ridged mountains. The depth was both literally and spiritually breath-taking. If Ri'saad had not been taught of the might and resilience of the Nords, this environment would mean personally nothing. The purpose would escape the mind of this one, much as it had probably escaped the other beside me.

"J'zargo hopes for a blanket. Do you have one?", a youthful voice called.

This one jumped, not expecting him to speak so suddenly. "Ri'saad does not have one to give to you. This blanket around my waist is for this one's only," Ri'saad replied.

"Ah," he responded. We continued our pace as the hill grew steeper. "Who are you?"

"How about we try this the _other_ way around?"

"All right. This one is J'zargo," he said. "Well, you know that. This one is a mage with many secrets."

"As is Ri'saad," this one said. "However, the secrets _this_ one is concerned with are likely quite different from yours."

"Ignore differences. We are Khajiit. Practically brothers!"

"Ri'saad's brothers were all of _elder_ years, J'zargo," this one stressed, with nerve. "Also, this one has plenty of siblings to keep in line, and does not require another."

"Well, this one will not prove a nuisance, and may find his way through the shadows rather easily, as you'd expect."

_Ah, so he is common as well._

"Ri'saad would more likely expect you to trip over a shrubbery in an attempt to impress this one, whom you wrongfully fail to realize is a superior."

"This one does see superiority of a sort in you," he said with narrowed eyes.

"You should, J'zargo. This one is at least a decade older, with a decade's more worth of experience, and serves a greater man than you."

"J'zargo serves no man," he said, this time with a gaze in this one's direction. His eyes shot poison with the lethality of a blade of swamp grass.

"You are a _child_," Ri'saad insisted, turning for our eyes to meet.

On impulse, he stopped, and fished through his knapsack. What he pulled out surprised Ri'saad. What he held were two scrolls, inscribed with a sort of spell. His following statement was even more startling.

"J'zargo wrote these scrolls. Could a child do that?", he snarled.

"Well. Yes, but they likely wouldn't work," this one responded. "What are they supposed to do?"

"It is flame cloak spell that only works against undead. Or, well, it _should_."

"You do not even know if they work?"

"Perhaps you'd like to find out for me, then?"

Ri'saad glared down towards the rolled sheets of paper. "Perhaps. This one would like to take them. No guarantee of return."

"Doesn't matter. J'zargo has ten of them. Name a price."

This one responded with a skeptical gaze. By now, love, you must've realized what a pain the little runt had been.

"Ten."

"No."

"Five."

"By the Twin Moons, _higher!_"

Ri'saad chuckled. "Fifteen."

"Nope."

"Twenty."

"Not close."

"Twenty-five?"

"No time, old man-"

"Take it _all_, damn you!", this one shouted, tossing the entire coin purse. You must understand, although quite the prude, this one has little tolerance for foolishness. His mouth hung agape. Perhaps he underestimated this one's wealth.

"J'zargo's impressed, elder," he said. "There's more where this came from, yes...?"

"It is none of your business how much Ri'saad makes, nor _how_."

This one's parasite for the day fell quiet. Much later than needed. Not just for this one's sanity, though, as a frozen being slithered through the air beyond. Making it's way quickly towards the group, from which he and Ri'saad had fallen behind, it was clear that it's plan was to make a meal out of us. This one drew a fire-bolt spell, as did J'zargo. Our actions were soon echoed by the other scholars. The ice wreath hissed, and immediately darted towards this one.

The barrage of fire-bolts melted the creature rather quickly, so do not worry in the slightest. Tolfdir gave us a quick run-through of what it was. Pretty boring, actually.

"J'zargo is frightened. That was like a dragon! Only probably not as bad."

Ri'saad strode past, with nothing but a sigh to express the shame at being near him. This one could only hope for a dragon; At least there would be something thrilling that J'zargo wouldn't survive.

* * *

Returning from my errand in Whiterun, I passed Meranden and Delphine in the merchant house. They were playing a board game that Meranden's father had taught him. It was strategic, and made use of pawns, and had some sort of ridiculous-sounding letter and number system. I didn't make any attempt to understand it.

"So, it's really simple, uh," he verbally stumbled. "You just, you see my pawn, here? You have a clear advantage. Jump ahead here."

"Jump ahead _where?_"

"You know what, never mind, Delphine. What's up?" he said, looking towards me.

"Oh, I just needed to tell you the supplies are in the carriage, waiting. I'd like to have them sorted in the library, at your convenience. We're in no rush for organization, just get them where we need them."

"Okay, might have problems with that."

"Eh, it's fine. Organize all you want if you'd like," I said, before turning to Delphine. She looked bored, as though she had no better place to be. "Where's Lydia and Rodryck?"

She shifted in her seat to another, equally-relaxed position. "They came by and left. Not sure where they went."

"...Helpful."

I decided to search for them, since I had sent them back without me and wanted to know if they were all right. I found their things. They had to be safe. How could anyone worry about them being in trouble, anyways?

Entering the main dining hall, I was met by a long, empty table and a glowing fireplace. I could smell the aftermath of dinner in the oven, which smelled of steamed mudcrab legs.

_They _would_ make my favorite dinner while I'm gone._

"Lydia...", I called, hearing nobody. "Lydia?"

The library was empty. Frankly, I didn't expect to find her there. "You here, Lydia?"

So was the kitchen. Wasn't expecting to find her there, either. "Come on, Lydia."

Her bedroom? Didn't want to go in, so I stayed at the door. "You in there?"

I walked out into the backyard. Empty. "_Damn_ it, Lydia...", I sighed.

It appeared as though neither of them were in the house. I didn't totally care where Rodryck was, though. Lydia couldn't get killed if she tried, since she's a one-woman armory, and nobody tries to fuck with her anyways. Even though her absence was odd, I paid no worry. I pretty much just gave up and went on with my day.


	11. The Blades

Author's Note: I feel the need to remind my readers that I also post this story on deviantART, and that dA usually gets chapters first because the file upload is more convenient for me. Nevertheless, I will continue to upload here until further notice.

* * *

"This was once the largest of all Nord settlements in Skyrim, before it was ruined by the elves in what is known as the Night of Tears," Tolfdir carefully explained as we crept through the ancient halls. "This event is very poorly-understood, which is why this opportunity is so exciting. Think of the discoveries about early civilizations just waiting in these halls!"

A Nord student beside this one seemed insulted by our presence. "These are my ancestors. We should leave the dead to their rest!"

J'zargo, ever excited, cared only for himself. "Do you think there is any treasure here? Something to make J'zargo a powerful wizard?"

"You have much to learn about power," this one remarked. "It comes from experience. Not from magic."

"What about the jewelry that could make me immortal?"

"This one is sure such a thing does not exist."

"That makes no sense. J'zargo will find one some day," he said, pushing ahead.

The tombs, unlike every other Ri'saad has seen, were untouched by any sort of being. No bandits had attempted to plunder the riches, and no vampires had made a feasting chamber of the place. This one knew better to say that this place was peaceful. The Draugr were surely waiting for us within. Tolfdir led us through one large chamber with walls held by scaffolding. Once we had reached the opposite side, near another hallway, he stopped us and gave us each orders.

He turned to this one first. "Ri'saad, I want you to assist one of our scholars, Arniel Gane. He would probably appreciate it if you could help him find more enchanted artifacts." This one nodded in compliance, and he turned to J'zargo. "You will try to make sure we're alone here. Look for tampering."

He shook his head. "J'zargo finds nothing but dust in these ruins."

J'zargo sulked down the hall while the others each went in their own directions to investigate. This one continued as well, knowing Gane was somewhere deeper in the complex. The crevices in the wall seemed to whisper in this one's direction, making for a far from comfortable environment. The spectral noise ushered this one further, until Arniel Gane appeared around a corner, hunched over a desk of documents and small artifacts.

"Excuse Ri'saad?"

"Hm?" He shot a quick look from his work before looking back down. "Oh. A student. There should be some things left to look at up ahead. Just don't touch anything. Old stuff breaks."

"All right, then. Thank you," this one replied. Ri'saad continued past the busy researcher until this one came across a room. It was rather small and unfurnished. This one steered clear of the burial urns, but nearly stepped on a small stone ring. Picking it up, Ri'saad noticed a faint glow of red, and pocketed it to show to Gane later. Looking back up and straight ahead, this one noticed a pedestal on the wall, holding a very strange amulet. This one quickly grabbed it from the wall. Iron bars slid from the floor, barring the exit to the room. Ri'saad was trapped.

* * *

"Karal'e?", a voice called from outside my room. "It's Delphine. There's a lot to tell you about. You busy?"

"Yeah. I'm writing," I replied as I crawled out of my bed. "Just give me a moment to get dressed."

"Oh, um... okay," she called back.

I found a robe on the bed stand. I grasped it and pulled it slowly over my shoulders before making my way to the door. I opened it. Delphine was tapping her foot.

"What's going on?"

"Rodryck and Lydia haven't come back. They should've been here by now,"

"That's weird," I said with weary eyes. "Probably bad news, too. They were on a bandit raid." We had found a note that hadn't been placed very visibly.

"We can go for backup in a moment. There's a lot more to tell you."

"Not going anywhere."

"All right. I've been thinking about who I work for. I'm sure you want an answer."

It had nearly slipped my mind. There was so much else to focus on. "Are you here to tell me who that is?"

"Well, yes," she said, as though preparing to explain. "I don't actually work for someone. Meranden and I are all that's left of them. The group was called the Blades."

"Wait, stop. You're telling me that you're all that's left, but you work for us now, too? So, what's the point of staying with this Blades thing?"

"I was about to explain that. The Blades were initially assembled to protect the last Dragonborn as his personal guard."

_That would explain more than a few things._

"Who was the last Dragonborn?"

"We don't know. It was hundreds of years ago. All we know is that he lived at a place called Sky Haven Temple, with the rest of the Blades."

"So... you want us to find that place, right?"

"Not yet. We don't know where it is. There _is_ a man who does. Esbern. He knows a lot about the last Dragonborn, but he's imprisoned in the Ratways in Riften."

It occurred to me that we might need the aid of the Thieves to reach him. Although I wanted them as allies, they skipped my mind when more important matters came up. It would also help if I didn't need to worry about being pick-pocketed. I needed – well, wanted – to wait for Ri'saad to return, and it would probably help to have Rodryck and Lydia back as well.

I stood in thought for a moment before replying. "This is sort of a long-term issue, and I'd rather have more of the team back first."

"Fair enough. It bothers me to wait, though."

"It's a part of the job. You need to get used to it."

"I guess so. Finally, I've found no reason to believe the Thalmor are responsible for resurrecting the dragons."

"All right, good," I said. We stood in my doorway awkwardly for a few moments. Then we heard a crash downstairs, and Meranden stumbled through the hall downstairs.

"Mr. Dragonborn!" he yelled as he tripped over a rogue sweet-roll, landing on his shoulder. "SHIT!", he shouted. "C-could you come down...?"

With a sigh, I went out into the upper balcony and walked downstairs to him. "You need to do a better job cleaning up. What is it?"

"Read this," he said, panting and clutching his shoulder.

I was pissed at first about the uncleanliness. However, the note brought news that shocked me even more than that. I pushed past Delphine towards the front door. "Get to the armory, both of you," I ordered.

"What happened?", Delphine asked.

"We need to get to the bandit camp. This is a ransom note. They've been captured."

* * *

Stuck in a Nord ruin. That is not how this one wanted to die. Frostbite spiders, skeevers and draugr do not make for good room mates. Thankfully, the sliding of metal against stone was loud enough for the others to hear, and Tolfdir appeared at the exit.

"We need to get you out of there!"

_Really, now?_

"What are we supposed to do?", Ri'saad said. This one turned around, back to where the amulet sat. The pedestal was beginning to glow and emanate some sort of magic. Tolfdir seemed to notice it, as well.

"Try hitting that with a spell!"

This one stood to face the pedestal head-on. Ri'saad held his hands up towards his chest. Flames began to brew within the palms of this one's hands, and were quickly expelled with a shot of the arm. The fire-bolt hit the pedestal, ceasing the magic effect, reopening the passageway. Then another exit revealed itself in the wall.

"Incredible!", Tolfdir spoke with awe. He continued quickly down the new passageway.

This one had a hard time keeping up without running. Eventually, Ri'saad gave up, and sped up to a jog before reaching him.

"This one is fine, by the way."

"Oh, I knew you were fine. I didn't need to ask. I think this leads somewhere."

"Really?", this one said, unable to care any less. Eventually, we reached a small chamber with an ancient desk in the center. Tolfdir inspected the sarcophagi in the walls of the chamber, seeming disappointed at the discovery. This one was ready to turn and leave him there when the old wizard froze in place. However, it wasn't that he had simply stopped moving; Time itself had frozen. A spectral figure appeared floating atop the desk.

"Listen now," the image said, seizing this one's attention. "On behalf of the Psijic Order, I must warn you of the events of the near future. Soon, you will make a decision that will cause great destruction. Your choice is unpreventable. However, you may still be able to interfere with the catastrophe. Go on, and prepare for these events, or you shall pay with your life."

The spirit vanished as soon as his message was finished. Tolfdir resumed moving about the room. He then turned to Ri'saad, and saw the empty expression on this one's face. "What's wrong?"

"A spirit spoke to me," this one replied. "He said he was from the Psijic Order. Warning about... this one's future choices, and some sort of disaster... that Ri'saad must prevent."

"The Psijic Order? That makes no sense. They disappeared hundreds of years ago."

"There is no mistaking what this one saw."

"It couldn't be. I wouldn't worry about it," he said.

"You do not worry much to begin with, do you?"

Before he could retort, this one heard the (by now) familiar bursting sound of tomb covers breaking from their seams. Three draugr challenged us with rusted axes and swords, their eyes glowing with eternal determination. Tolfdir was shocked, despite knowing of the threat. Ri'saad was somewhat relieved at the chance to toss more undead bodies to the floor. This one unsheathed his daggers, swiftly and fatally stabbing the two draugr facing me. Tolfdir, without a blade, shocked the third to a second date with death.

Giving Tolfdir a moment to catch his breath, this one inspected the caskets in the walls. Ri'saad pushed on the back panel, causing it to fall to the floor of another hallway. We were on our way in a moment's notice.

Thankfully, the draugr in Saarthal produced little challenge to us. It did not take too long to reach the giant iron door that usually guards the most important of the rooms in ancient Nord complexes. Opening the door, a task that once proved too difficult for this one, was rather easy after all of the practice and preparation. This next chamber glowed a strange teal color. We walked further in towards a balcony, catching sight of the light source. A giant orb inscribed in an ancient language floated within a rippling force-field in the center of the chamber, glowing and pulsating a bright ocean color. It seemed that this powerful mystery had a guardian as well, which awoke from its slumber to unsheathe a decaying battle-axe.

This one jumped down from the upper level to begin attacking the draugr guardian. However, this one found that this opponent was sapping magic from the orb's force-field, making it invulnerable. All this one could do is defend while Tolfdir tried to take down the barrier. This one's first move was to summon the Sabre cat as a distraction, but when the cat lunged at the draugr, he was deflected and launched into the wall. The fierce lion shrunk to a house cat, weakened, and scurried away behind a burial urn. The warrior charged toward Ri'saad with the axe ready to impale this one through the head. Ri'saad quickly conjured a war axe, blocking the attack inches from this one's nose.

Tolfdir tried every spell he could remember, while Ri'saad grew weaker with every new attempt. Finally, he drew a powerful lightning spell, which weakened the forcefield enough for Ri'saad to knock the draugr to the ground. As the enemy tried to get back on its feet, the house cat returned with a vengeance, growing back to the Sabre form and pinning it to the ground. The draugr was soon nothing but a pile of ancient bone and flesh. Tolfdir was impressed at the display. Our unseen spectator on the upper balcony, however, stood agape with awe.

"That was... _awesome!_", J'zargo exclaimed. "How did you...?"

"Lots of practice," Ri'saad advised, not a breath taken from the fight. The Sabre cat sat at this one's feet. Ri'saad then tossed the conjured war axe across the room. "Fetch, boy!" He jumped and caught it in mid-air.

_Never gets old._


	12. The Rising Moons

Author's Note: This chapter is very short for pacing/structural reasons. The next chapter will be very long and very important to the story.

* * *

The stone was rough against my skin. It was cold, chilling my soul through my spine. My wrists laid limp in the shackles that hung from the ceiling. I strained the muscles in my arms, tugging at the chains. Doing no damage. Making no difference.

This cell was stoic at sight and brutal at touch. A small square, with a tall door, firmly bolted and iron-clad. No level of human strength could break through. There was no escape for me in that state. I was a powerless soldier.

We had raided the camp –Lydia and I – just as we had planned. We did not plan, however, for the bandits to be as powerful as they were. They had a leader, a man, who channeled his soldiers cleanly and carefully with precise calculation. There was no way to expect him.

Karal'e was surely looking for us. I was sure he was suspicious. I knew, however, that Ri'saad would not be with him, and that they would need a great amount of power to get through that militia. Lydia and I are two of his best assets, and Ri'saad's power is second to his own. They don't like to admit it. They humble themselves. When I put it that way, perhaps he was enough to take them down.

However hard it is to admit it, I cannot compare to him. Not normally. He is the Dragonborn, and destined to be powerful. It is his fate to be able to destroy whoever he pleases. I am just a servant in comparison. A rock at the base of a towering mountain. A shrubbery by the trunk of a great oak tree.

For this reason, I had no hope of surviving that bandit raid at first. I was too weak to handle something like that. Now, here I am. Sitting alone in a cell, because they had a trump card waiting beneath the surface. However, looking up at the Twin Moons through a small crack of a window, a grin spread across my stubbled face, for I had a trump card of my own.

As the bandits gambled and guzzled their mead in jovial celebration, the room froze with a ghastly, deafening howl.


	13. The Eye of Magnus

The heavenly chamber sat atop the palatial institution, curtains of moonlight casting the symbol of the Eye on the intricate stonework. The glow of candlelight was present, cut unnecessary, for in the center of the circular chamber grew a garden of plants, trees and shrubs lit by three magical mage-lights.

This one was sent here to speak to the resident of this hall; The Arch-Mage of the College, Savos Aren. Ri'saad found him at a side-table, sitting calmly on a wooden chair.

"Excuse this one. Tolfdir sent me for you."

"I see. Our Dragon-blood visitor," he spoke. "What do you have to say?"

"We came across a strange glowing orb. Tolfdir has taken it upon himself to transport it to the learning hall."

The learning hall sat on the bottom floor of the main building, with the library above it, and the Arch-Mage's quarters on top. Each room was circular.

"Is that so? I haven't heard much of anything like that, but I am sure our librarian downstairs would have more to say about such things."

"Thank you, sir."

This one walked calmly towards the stairwell, casting the bright light and splendor of the room behind him. As Ri'saad descended, the High Elf from before was seen again, and pushed haughtily past this one. He seemed to have a follower, too. Oddly enough, he appeared to be a dark elf, but his face was obscured by a hood. Slightly off-put, this one paused for a moment before continuing with the descent.

The library had a very pleasing, yet contrastingly humble appearance. Many students were there doing what students do; Studying. No sooner had this one entered than J'zargo had jumped up from his seat and ran to me.

"J'zargo is sorry for his behavior," he pleaded. He paused for a moment. "...Master Ri'saad."

"You have much to learn, J'zargo. It will take quite a bit to make up for your attitude, but it will be far from impossible."

He sighed before bowing his head. "Thank you, Ri'saad."

Watching as he strode off, this one realized what it felt like to have someone genuinely look up to you. Ri'saad was not sure whether he liked the feeling. This one approached the desk in the back, where an elderly Orc sat reading.

"You are the Librarian, correct?", Ri'saad asked. "This one was told by the Arch-Mage that you would have some materials about Saarthal."

"I will, as soon as it's delivered," he said bluntly. "It might be waiting at the inn in town. The innkeeper's a friend of mine and said he'd have the books delivered."

"So, should this one retrieve them?"

"Do you think I'm too _old_ and _weak?_", he accused with a menacing stare.

"What!? No! Sir."

His stone-cold glare lifted. He started to laugh, loudly enough to break whatever work was getting done in the room. "I'm only kidding! Poor sap. I'm old enough to die the true Orc way just by pushing a _door_," he said. This one began to laugh from nerves. He slammed his fist down. "Don't fucking _laugh_ at me, asshole!"

This one wasn't sure how to react, but then he began to laugh again, and said, "Heh, just go. Get the books. Have fun, kid." Ri'saad carefully walked out of the library.

After descending another flight of stairs, this one walked past the iron gates of the learning hall, where the foreign globe floated in the center. This one stopped at the gates. Then, the high elf returned from behind – without his follower – and entered the room, firmly closing the gates behind him. Surely, this curiosity of an artifact is something that all had wanted to study. Ri'saad went on his way.

This one hates errands. It gets especially annoying when someone else gives them to me in such a way. Ri'saad made the long trek away to town, stopping by the inn. This one strode through the inn to the man that looked like he was the innkeeper. He said he didn't have them. This one would rather spare you the details, love. It was tiresome.

As Ri'saad stepped out onto the porch, this one noticed something very strange about the environment. Everything seemed still. The snowflakes had ceased, the trees stood stiff, and the air had no breeze. Within a few moments, this one realized that time had stopped, and everything was motionless. A voice rang in my head.

"_You must leave for the College immediately. Run, with haste, for the great catastrophe has already begun._"

* * *

The stone floor was splattered with a deep, vengefully red color. It began atop the staircase. One guard was torn open with fury, a long gash of the fluid leading one half of the man to the other. A red branch led down the stairs, flowed and stretched in shape. Hitting the bottom, the line took a turn to the hall of the feast. It wound in stains along a stolen carpet. It spread itself every which way about the thrashed and ruined room. It slipped through the gaping holes of scattered bodies. An unruly hub-and-spoke pattern of blood surrounded the shattered dining table, where gold septims lay littered about a marauder's remains, smashed into the center of the table with a beastly force. The blood departed the scene, dragged through halls, tossed upon walls, leading past cell after cell, until it reached the feral feet of Rodryck, the murderous werewolf of the clan Dragon-born.

His sharp, fearsome claws pulled at the iron bars of my cell. He could've smashed his way through, but the last thing on his itinerary was to get me killed. I knew of this... part of him long before we were captured. This fact was the only force suppressing my fear.

I guess I'll never know why he trusted me more than the others. All I know is that he feared to use this ability unless there was no other way to save himself. He didn't want Karal'e to know. I suppose it's understandable.

The seams of the door finally gave way. The tall, iron gate was lifted easily from its place, and tossed down the hall. We left the bloodied bandit prison to make our escape.

* * *

"_It is too late to save anybody._"

This one ran as fast as he could across the bridge that once made him tremble.

"_You have failed, and will pay for your mistakes with loss and grief._"

The front tower grew taller and taller. A threatening pillar of teal light rose higher and higher from the building.

"_It doesn't matter how fast you run. They will still die because of you._"

Ri'saad finally entered the main building. The gates of the learning hall were accompanied by a strong, rippling force-field. On the other side, this one saw a figure standing in front of the Orb. Several students gathered behind me.

"We need to get in right now!", J'zargo shouted. "This one saw the Dark Elf and the Arch-Mage walk in before this started happening."

With little time to waste, Ri'saad readied a lightning spell. "Everybody, do as this one does!" Five mages striking the field did nothing to weaken it. The power of the Orb was too strong; It must have been somehow manipulated. This one strengthened his spell by dual-casting. The barrier only barely began to falter.

* * *

We finally broke out to the midnight plains. Rodryck immediately bound for the road, and I struggled to keep up with him. The manor wasn't close, but not too far to travel to by foot. He leapt and tore through the low valley brush. Then, suddenly, he stopped. An enemy had caught sight of us. I hid behind a tree to get a view of it: A giant. It stomped on the ground, throwing me off balance. Rodryck was unfazed. He pounced onto the giant's waist, tearing with wild abandon at the pale flesh, gouging through meat and muscle. The tall monster fell to the stout beast. Our werewolf, infuriated, tore the steel arrows from the giant's back.

_Wait, arrows?_

I realized something was off. Those arrows weren't mine. I had no bow. I noticed Rodryck was being shot at by somebody else, but he wasn't fighting back. Realizing who our opponent was, I made my presence clear, ordering them to stop. The archer lowered his bow at the leader's command. I identified myself and their beastly target. Upon the realization, Karal'e's eyes widened.

* * *

The curtain of magic gave way as our spells reduced to static. This one burst through the gates to the learning hall. Whatever was going on, it needed to be stopped. The voice would not let Ri'saad forget.

"_You have missed your last chance._"

To the side, the hooded figure of the dark elf kneeled by the Arch-Mage. He reached out toward me in helplessness. The elf rose to his feet, softly unsheathing his blade from Savos Aren's elder heart.

"_Your power, your determination, could never be enough._"

The dark mage removed his hood. He turned. The light outlined his face. He couldn't have my lover, so he settled for my mentors.

"_There is little time left. The only thing left to salvage is yourself!_"

The words rose in fury as the Orb's magic continued to expand from its seams. Channels of light shimmered and snapped. The warnings left no better interpretation. The Eye of Magnus was about to self-destruct. This one grabbed J'zargo by the arm and pulled him towards the courtyard.

As we were nearing the outer gates, the walls of the main chamber broke apart. Rocks tore into the chamber and burst out of the other side, swinging back around to collide with other buildings and trees. The cloud of spinning debris grew greater and greater, the upper floors barely able to maintain themselves. We were nearly across the bridge when they gave way to a giant void. A massive explosion eradicated the ruins of the College. Not paying any attention to our direction, this one felt the ground lurch, and suddenly blacked out.


	14. The Soaring Sun

My housecarl led me by horseback across the fields of dawn. We were nearing the source of the teal explosion. All of Skyrim could see and hear the event that sent ripples through nature. Trees rustled, rabbits fled, and birds scattered as the faint shockwave reached us in the plains. The source of the light was uncertain to me, but Meranden seemed sure that it had come from Winterhold.

An acidic doubt began to seep through the remains of my hopeful heart. My mind knew he must have been there, but my spirit refused to accept it. My love, my life, could not be dead.

The clopping of the horse's feet began to soften. Hooves became paws, and trees grew to surround us. I looked around as I found myself standing. Lydia, nor the horse, were anywhere to be found. I was in a forest. One from a long-lost life. The trees rustled and footprints crossed every which way. It was strange. I felt almost... younger. The birds sang in a peaceful pattern as strange voice awakened my senses.

"_Hey, K..._"

The spectral voice was one of youth. A tone I no longer recognized, but could just barely scratch from my memory.

"_K, over here! Come on!_"

The boy beckoned me further through the forest, past nostalgic streams and familiar cliffs. I had an urge to keep up my pace. I began to run. My legs already hurt, but I still pressed on.

"_You're way too slow. Speed up!_"

_I'm trying!_

The songbirds increased in tempo. The orderly beat began to deteriorate. My heart started to race. I couldn't stop running.

"_Come on!_"

I neared an opening. There was a figure there. No, a shadow, as I hurried closer. I immediately halted as the figure cleared its form as a beast. Its mouth moved.

"_Hurry up, Karal'e!_"

Its scabbed, spider-like claws reached behind it, and pulled something in front. A head. The head of the lover that I couldn't protect.

"_Move!_"

* * *

"_RI'SAAD!_"

Dirt. Air. Gasping in a cold sweat.

"Karal'e, what happened?! Move!"

Eyes staring down. A firm ground beneath me. Some strange, unsettling radiance.

_Where am I?_

An arm pulled me up and brought me towards a blurred horizon. My vision cleared. A haunting, ocean color filled my vision. I looked to my side, where I could focus. Lydia was pulling me, with Meranden behind. I looked back ahead.

"Oh my-"

Teal smoke billowed from the ruins of the ancient institution. The bridge trailed from one side of the river to the other, split into chunks, already being chipped away by the rushing water. A few figures crawled from the remains. I recognized none of them. I didn't give them a second glance. I limped down the steep slope, not caring for my damaged senses. I heard a voice call towards me. Was it him?

"Hey! This one is-" I immediately interrupted with a tight hug. He seemed... smaller. "...looking for help for my mentor, Ri'saad...?"

I pulled away. The kid's eyes widened. Not him at all. "W-where is he?!"

"He is over by the bridge." He gave me a inquisitive look as I hurried away. "Or what's left of it. You're his... partner, correct?"

"Where are you?" I muttered continuously as I dug through the brush and rubble. "By the Eight, where are you?!"

A weak gasp sounded from further down the slope. I turned immediately, seeing a weak figure lying under the shadow of an old oak tree. I stumbled to my knees beside him, inspecting his wound, which tore through his leg. His light, green eyes gazed through his face as the contorted fear fell to relief. Unable to hold myself in any longer, I threw my arms around him and held him as tight as I could, hoping my strong embrace would protect my dearest love from the catastrophe that ravaged the ruins surrounding us.

"Oh, this one and his close calls," he snarked through his weak throat. "You're going to need to lock Ri'saad up if it gets this far again."

"I won't let this happen again." I lifted my chin from the seat of his shoulder to look at him as I spoke. "I _can't_ let this happen again."

"You did not let this happen. It was never your fault."

Holding my face above his, I felt tears as they began to reach the tip of my cold nose. I needed warmth so desperately, to calm my mind, body, and soul.

"I love you, Ri'saad," I finally choked.

"Karal'e," he barely replied. "Ri'saad loves you, too."

Our faces slowly neared each other, with our eyes closed in anticipation. Our lips locked together as if they were made to fit so perfectly. In an instant, the world around us was gone, and only we remained, with fur against fur providing the only warmth we would ever need. It felt as though an eternity had passed when our faces departed. Reality returned to me as the soaring sun cast its brilliant light upon my life's most perfect miracle.

* * *

**End of Part One**


	15. End Notice (All followers, please read!)

As you can see, Part One has ended, and Part Two has begun! As the new name of this story suggests, Part Two will be posted as a "separate" story on my profile. This message is for those of you who follow this story, but don't follow me as an author on the site. Because of the way I am handling the next stage of Karal'e, if you aren't following my entire profile, you probably wouldn't have received a notification for the first chapter of Part Two.

For those followers, go to my profile, and Karal'e Part Two - Chapter One should be there for reading!

Thanks for your support!

Michael Ivan


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